The 27 Club
by GieGie
Summary: What happens when you stick Resident Evil in 1946? A mock FF of Resident Evil with a 40's twist. In Racoon City, the Mob is at large, and 'The 27 Club' is the most elite nightclub in the city. Explicit adult content, R&R and enjoy!
1. It Could Be Worse

_Racoon City, January, 1946_

1946. The second world war had ended nearly five months ago, men had come home from overseas, and families were reunited. Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald were on the records, and Humphrey Bogart was one of the best actors in Hollywood. Zoot Suits and feather boa's were the style, and ladies looked like ladies. Gentleman opened the doors for their girls, and jazz was the mainstream music to listen to.

Many people were happy, and then again, many people weren't.

She was sitting on the bed, the record player sounding out a slow jazz song, scratches and pops heard every now and again due to the condition of the record, which was fairly over played. She lived with her older brother in an apartment building that didn't have a front or backyard, but it was a nice roof over their heads, and she kept it comfortable. Anyone who came into the house would feel right at home to live there.

Pulling her silk robe around her, she sobbed quietly, and used the sounds of the music as a buffer to keep anyone outside of her bedroom door from hearing. It'd been almost seven months now since her fiancé had been killed overseas in the war, but she still broke down and cried about it every now and again.

Actually, they hadn't been engaged, but she'd come to love him very dearly before he'd left. And not two months before the war ended, she'd received a telegram, one of those dreaded telegrams from the war department, that someone she loved had been killed.

She'd remembered staring at the letter. She knew three men overseas, and neither one of them she'd wanted to die. One of them was her brother, the other a family friend. She couldn't open the letter, all she could do was stare at it.

Thankfully, her best friend, Rebecca, had been there, and she'd taken the telegram from her and opened it herself.

But Claire couldn't move. She was already shaking with the mourning of losing a loved one. She was already dead inside. No matter who Rebecca named, Claire was going to break down.

As gently as she could, Rebecca broke the news to Claire that it'd been Steve, her boyfriend. Rebecca was already hugging Claire, and the tears flowed freely. Both of them just couldn't move or do anything.

Rebecca cried too, Steve had been a good friend, and to see Claire hurting so much as well tore her apart even more.

Now Claire sat in her bedroom, not paying much attention to the record, just crying because she still remembered what they'd had before, how it'd been so wonderful.

The snows were falling outside again, but it was too dark to see from her window. She could simply tell by the build up on the window sill. She watched them in her depressed state, somehow feeling the same kind of cold inside that was outside her room.

A knock came to the door. Claire gasped and turned her head, her red curls flying about her face and framing it. Tear stricken blue eyes stared at the wood and she cleared her throat and asked, "Chris?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you were up for going somewhere."

Claire wiped her eyes frantically, grabbing tissues from the glass holder she had on her night stand, and she stood from the grey satin sheets, wrapping her maroon colored silk robe around her. "One moment," she called.

Moving to her vanity set, a few black and white pictures with jagged edges of Rebecca, Chris, and Steve, and herself, lined the edges, but she ignored them for the moment and made sure her face was proper to be presented. She took the hair comb from the vanity table which sat next to perfume bottles and make up, and she ran it through the red locks a few times.

Finally, she answered the door and she looked at the brown haired, blue eyed man on the other side which was her older brother, "Where are you going?"

"Well, I heard they had a sale on clothing at Chester's, I thought you might like to get a new dress," Chris told her as if he were trying to tempt her, a devilishly handsome smile gracing his features.

As the soft jazz sounded from the record player behind her, Claire smiled up at her brother in return and she shook her head, "No, I don't think I'm up to it tonight. Rain check?"

Chris smiled at his little sister. He'd known she'd been crying. She thought he didn't know, but she always played the same song to keep him from hearing. It worried him, so he'd offered to take her out, hoping she'd accept. "You sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded with a smile.

"It's only six o'clock, they don't close 'til eight."

"No, really. Why don't you go find you something though, a nice suit. You could use one." She slyly smiled.

"All right," Chris told her, then he patted her shoulder, "we'll go tomorrow then maybe."

Claire just nodded her head, then she sighed and reached up to hug him and show him some appreciation for caring about her so much.

"Are you going anywhere?" She asked him.

"Well, I was thinking about going to the station if you didn't want to go shopping." He stood back and looked at her. "See if anything new has happened."

"On the investigation of those missing people?"

"Yeah," he told her, "maybe I'll get lucky and one of 'em has shown up."

"Go do that then, that's more important than shopping," Claire smiled. "Besides, if I really wanted to go somewhere, I could always catch a taxi cab."

"At night? I don't think so."

Claire laughed softly, "You're still too overprotective."

"I don't have a good reason not to be, now do I?"

Claire knew he was just trying to look out for her best interests, but she also knew that he was concerned more so here lately because of all the people that had gone missing. It really was worrying, she thought. Then she told him, "Well, go on to the station. I'll be here when you get back."

"Okay, give me a call if something goes wrong."

Claire nodded again when he put his fist to her cheek affectionately and then turned and walked away. She thought maybe it was wrong, but she was glad he hadn't died. She could always find someone else to love, as terrible as that sounded, but she'd never have another brother.

Even still, as soon as he left, she turned and shut the door, and then started crying again.

It was just a terrible night for her.

But, she tried to reassure herself, things could always be a lot worse.


	2. Never Complain

The lights on stage flashed to life, illuminating the dressed up blue curtains and the shiny floor situated around the cardiod microphone. Fingers with painted red nails slid around the metal and drew it forth to a pair of ruby red lips.

The music had started playing, and the womans lips parted, "Summertime," she sang, "and the livin' is easy."

The audience listened intently, Porgy and Bess hadn't been performed the city in quite a while, so it was a treat.

The singers name was Ada Wong, and the most unusual thing about her was that she was Asian. Not many Asians came through Racoon City, much less that spoke fluent English, but she did. And she was a beauty, maybe one of the most beautiful women in the entire city.

Her place in The 27 Club was well founded.

Her neck length black hair was graced with a beaded flapper hat of red with black sequins, a matching china doll gown dressed her body, made of red silk with a sequined bodice, splits up the sides, showing her long legs and a hint of black garter belt, black hose, down to black open toed heels. As the song picked up, so did her movements, fluid and matching the song in a sultry kind of way, bringing a warmth to the inside of the popular nightclub that wasn't felt outside of it during this time of year.

"One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singin'," she sang, "then you'll spread your wings, and you'll take to the sky."

As the rest of the audience watched, a booth that was always reserved for the VIP's of the nightclub was filled with a few men, one of which was eyeing the singer with more than just casual glances. She was bringing in a lot of money, and she was also the perfect accessory for him to show off when he needed to.

But that was it, nothing more than an accessory.

He made good use of her.

As the song finally ended, the lights went down into a darkened void, bringing about the climax, and Ada lowered her head and she backed off stage into the darkness awaiting her while the audience cheered in her wake.

It was just another night for Ada. She headed back to the dressing room to take another one of her breaks in between numbers.

In the dressing room, mirrors lit with big round bulb lights graced one wall, and the girls were all putting on their makeup and pulling outfits over their brassière's, and some of them told Ada how well she'd done singing.

As the music started from the stage, some of the girls gasped and they all ran off to go do their dance number, this flashy garments glinting the light as they moved away. Ada just leaned on the dresser she was sitting at and lit a cigarette, enjoying the peace and quiet for the moment. She examined her nails, just waiting for her next song to be sung. She'd have to change her outfit again as well, but she had time for a cigarette in between.

Staring down at her dressing room table, she felt a pair of gloved hands moving across her shoulders and to her throat. She knew who it was. "You're not supposed to be back here," she said in a slightly playful tone.

"It's my nightclub," replied the mans deep, smooth voice, "I'll go where ever I please."

Ada gave a lascivious smirk and she stamped out her cigarette, then she looked up at the man in the mirror, all black, pinstripe suit, shades on his eyes as had become his reputation to wear, and slicked back blonde hair. "Then to what do I owe your visit, Albert Wesker? Shouldn't you be out schmoozing some people, trying to get more patrons?"

Wesker chuckled lowly, rubbing his thumbs against her jaw on both sides, "Perhaps I wanted to come see my favorite performer before I lost the chance to. This is your longest break of the night after all."

Ada smiled and she took the perfume bottle, let him remove his hands before she held it up in one hand and pumped the ball with the other. Then she set it back down and stood up, turned around to face him, "You never come to see me _just because_," she told him in a low voice, "so what do you want?"

"Two things," he replied pointedly, wasting no time in doing so. Ada wasn't surprised. "One, there's a man here tonight in the crowd. He's from out of town."

"So?"

"He belongs to a mob not related to mine, and I'm not sure why he's here."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Nothing yet, but if you happen to meet up with him," Wesker said, reaching out to rub the back of his fingers across her chin, "I want you to exude some of that charisma you're so well known for and get him to talk to you. It's my best bet of finding out why he's here."

Ada smiled, then she reached up to his hand, "_If_," she enunciated, "that happens, you know I'll be more than happy to get him to talk to me." Something in her tone, however, said she wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it.

"Good girl," Wesker stepped forward, "I'll show my appreciation later tonight in the hotel room."

He was getting closer to her face with his own, and she stopped him by asking, "What's the other reason you came here?"

"This," he said before he pulled her up against him and kissed her hard, swirling his tongue around in her mouth dominantly.

Ada closed her eyes and she leaned into his strong frame, wrapping her arms around his sides. The kiss was intense and returned in kind, sauce for the goose.

She still tasted as sweet as she looked, Wesker thought for a moment, but looks were definitely deceiving.

Finally, the kiss broke slowly, and Ada had a bemused expression on her face. It gave Wesker a surge of arrogant pride, and he pulled back from her, let her stand on her own. The movement caused her to stumble, and she grumbled over it. It was a movement designed to remind her that he could, both literally and figuratively, let go of her at any moment.

"Don't forget what I said, Angel," he called her from time to time, walking toward the door as he was done for now, "I'll see you when the show is done."

Ada rolled her eyes when he left the room and she walked back to the mirror. Then she saw her lipstick and she grumbled once again because it was smeared, so she grabbed some more and started putting it on. "Dirtbag," she muttered to herself.

But, she qualified, at least this time, he hadn't strangled her until she'd told him she would do as he'd said, unlike the one time she'd gotten herself in trouble back when she'd barely known him. Even still, he'd always been, well, cold and remorseless.

Except when they were in bed. The man definitely knew how to heat things up quickly.

Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment, Ada thought, but she also knew that there were a ton of other women who'd kill to be in the position she was.

Because of Wesker, Ada was at the top of the line in the city as far as everyone else was concerned. She was his right hand, and she would be damned if she let anyone come between her and that. From the venue she had, she could see the whole city, and no one could look down on her. It was a far cry from the life of poverty she'd led growing up in California as the child of a couple of "chinks" as they called them out there, and everywhere else too as far as that mattered.

So no, Ada wasn't about to give up her life of luxury just because the man who'd really gotten her there was a cold-hearted asshole. He kept her well enough, and there was no way she was about to complain.

Not for anything in the world.


	3. Newcomer

That singer on stage had taken up most of his attention for the entire time he'd been there. She'd caught it nearly completely, and he was smirking over it. Damn, but she knew how to move.

He sat quietly at the table, alone, with the shadow of his fedora hat casting over his face, veiling it in shadow. Though smoking was a rare thing for him to do, he pulled the cigar to his lips and inhaled, the bright orange cherry illuminating his smirking features for just a moment before he put it back down onto the ashtray, a brandy in his other hand that he'd casually been sipping.

Red was a gorgeous color for a woman, and when she wore it well, everything was positively perfect. This singer, Ada Wong, definitely knew how to wear the color. But when the song, Summertime, had ended, and she left the stage, he caught sight of one of the VIP's standing up, wearing a black fedora of his own, and walking toward the back of the bar.

Leon narrowed a brow and wondered if his movement had anything to do with the singer that just left. But he knew who the man was. He knew all too well. Albert Wesker. The owner of The 27 Club, and mob boss to boot. He was the reason Leon was in town now.

Since he was the owner though, it stood to reason he knew Ada Wong, and Leon could only guess they were involved. It wasn't too far of a stretch, most nightclub owners were involved with their star performers, so Leon just sat back and considered his chances. He could only hope that Ms Wong wasn't too tied up with him, because if not, he could easily get more of his job done, not to mention maybe land a few good hits with the lady herself.

"Hey, you want a refill?"

Leon looked up from the rim of his white striped black fedora, and he smirked at the pretty brown haired lady standing before him. Like all the other serving girls, she was wearing a glistening silver and black tuxedo style uniform that had a short skirt which flared out, black heels with bows on the tops of them, garter belts, long black gloves, and a top that was sleeveless and wrapped around the back of the neck. On her head was a black cap with a bow on the front of it, and her brown curls framed it and her face nicely.

She carried a black tray with cigarettes, cigars, and playing cards on it, and Leon told her, "Sure, if you're up to getting me one."

"You're new here, aren't you?" She asked, trying to see beneath the rim of his fedora to his face.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, I've been working here for half a year now, and I don't recall ever seeing you, so yeah, to me it's obvious."

"Then I could use someone in my corner. What's your name?" Leon asked with a sly smile.

The serving girl smirked and she crossed her gloved hands and arms over her chest, leaning back a little, "You get off to a fast start. My name's Jill Valentine."

"Valentine, hmm?"

"Don't even try it, I've heard it a million times already."

Leon chuckled and he reached out to take her hand. Slowly, she put hers in his and instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of it, "My name's Leon Kennedy."

"Leon, huh? I knew a Leon once."

"Is that good?"

"No, he was bad news. Drifter. But anyway, I'll go get your drink, Leon," she said his name with a slight sarcasm that made the man smirk.

Leaning back in his chair, Leon pulled out his pocket watch he had connected to a long chain and eyed the time. Nearly seven thirty. The night was still young.

Things had gotten quiet after a short time as well, just the band playing, so Leon stood up and walked to the bar where Jill had gone. He figured if she'd been working here so long, she must know the ins and outs of things. So he sat at the bar and waited for her to see him, also waiting on the next show to be given from Ada.

Jill turned around from pouring Leon another glass of brandy, and then she blinked, "You move _really_ fast, don't you?"

"Sometimes, if I'm interested enough to."

"And what would you be interested in exactly?" She asked, putting the glass down in front of him.

Taking it, he swirled it around a few times before he replied, "Several different things."

Jill eyed him for just a moment, her violet eyes seeming to be sizing him up, and then she grinned and laughed softly, pearly whites shining from behind mauve colored lips, "I've gotta get back to work."

"Alright, but don't forget about me," Leon chuckled as she walked away.

"I'll try not to," she called back sarcastically, and he watched her leaving. He stayed put instead of going back to the table he'd been at before. Besides, he thought, he had a better view of the stage from the bar area anyway.


	4. Lost and Found

The desks were lined up nicely, all of them neat and well kept. A few fans spun slowly, hanging from the ceiling, casting turning shadows in the room while one employee was sitting behind a desk, snoring softly, his legs propped up and his grey hat tilted forward on his face, covering most of it except for his beard.

The door opened quietly, and Chris looked inside, adjusting his trench coat and then smirking at the man who was sleeping. He walked toward him from the door and snuck up behind him, then he cleared his throat, and in a deep, loud voice, he said, "Barry! Are you asleep again!"

Barry jumped up quickly, his hat falling off of his face, and he stood up straight, "No sir!"

Then he saw who it was, heard him laughing. He sighed in relief, though he looked fairly annoyed, and he said, "Son of a, damn it, Chris! Don't ever do that again!"

"You think I was the boss or something?"

Barry rubbed his eyes and he grumbled, "Yeah, of course I did. What are you doing here anyway? Couldn't persuade Claire to go shopping?"

"Nah, she's just having a bad night again I think. It'll pass."

"Yeah, she's gotten a lot better. So, why here?"

Chris shrugged, "Blind hope, false hope maybe."

"That something's turned up?"

"Yeah."

"Don't give up, there's gotta be something around."

"I know, but there was another disappearance this morning, and who knows when the next one will happen. And I'm just afraid it'll be someone we know."

Barry could understand that sentiment really well, and he nodded slowly, "Yeah, me too. I don't want it to be one of my daughters."

"Or my sister."

Both men thought about that for a moment and then they grumbled. "Come on, Chris, let's stop thinking about it for now. Let me get you something to drink."

"A coffee might work."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Chris let Barry leave and then he sighed, moving toward one of the doors, one that read 'Detective Redfield' on the iced glass, and he opened it. Inside was a desk, illuminated by the light outside and streaked in the shadows of Venetian blinds covering the windows. He turned on the light and sat down, pulling his trench coat off and setting it across the back of the chair.

He needed some time to think, some time to consider things that were happening. Reaching up, Chris loosened the green tie around his neck and adjusted his suspenders, getting his trousers a little more comfortable, and he took off his tan fedora and set it down.

There had been seven people total to go missing in the passed two months, one just that morning. No one knew anything about where they were or what had happened to them. When Claire had told him he was being overprotective, he hadn't thought he was being in the least, not with all this mess going on.

Looking up after a moment, Chris noticed a silhouette outside of the iced glass on his office door, and he figured it was Barry coming back with the coffee.

The door opened, and Chris said, "You take as long as an old lady, Barry," then he looked up to see a face that was far prettier than Barry's was.

The young woman was wearing a blue sun dress that seemed to be a tad bit dirty, and her eyes were tear stricken. Her short blonde hair was a bit frazzled, and with the snow outside, he knew she had to be cold, "Detective Redfield?" She asked him.

She couldn't have been any older than 18 or 19, and Chris nodded, standing up, "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she admitted, fidgeting her dirty white gloved hands together.

"Sit down, can I get you a coffee?"

"No, really," the young lady replied as she sat down. "I just, I don't know where to start."

"What happened? Start at the beginning. What's your name?"

"Ashley," she replied, "Ashley Graham."

Chris stopped and his blue eyes stared in her direction. He'd been about to grab his coat and put it around her shoulders, but when she said her name, he couldn't move for a moment, "Did you say Graham?"

"Yes."

With a deep sigh, Chris finally took the coat over to her. Then he sat down in the chair next to her and said, "You were reported missing this morning, since yesterday."

"I know."

"What happened to you, Ashley?"

She seemed slightly nervous, but she spoke anyway, "Yesterday evening, I was doing a little shopping. It was about 5:30, and Chester's had a sale. My father said I could go if I wanted to, as long as I was back before seven, and so I went in a taxi."

Chris let her go on, knowing people liked to tell their own story. But he did ask, "Have you seen your father yet?"

She shook her head no, staring forward blankly. Then she turned her head and looked at him, "There was a man following me. I didn't get a good look at him, but he was a pretty big guy."

"Was this at Chester's?"

"No, it was outside The 27 Club, across the street from it actually."

"What were you doing there?"

Ashley frowned, then she looked down, "I never went shopping. I was going to sneak into the club with a friend of mine. But we chickened out. Instead, we just ended up taking a walk for a while, and that's when I'd noticed the man following us since we'd left the nightclub."

"Did he try to attack you?"

"No, he never got close enough. But when my friend and I noticed, we walked faster, but he still seemed to keep up. And then we saw two more men down the road in front of us, so we ran into an alleyway."

"Did they follow you?"

"Yes."

Ashley sounded confused and nervous. Chris put his hand on hers, "It's okay, you can tell me what happened."

She nodded slowly, and then she looked back over at him, "We climbed up a fire escape to get away from them, but they followed us up. Once we got inside, we found out that they were coming up the steps from the outside as well, so we hid in a closet. They were looking around for us, we could see them through the crack in the door, and I was so scared I felt like I couldn't breathe."

"Did you see any of them clearly?"

"No, just their legs, they were all dressed really nicely too. But one of them said something about going back to 27, so I know they were from the club. We waited for them to give up, but they started coming toward the closet to check for us. So we busted the doors open on them, and ran like crazy. I ran so far so fast that I got separated from Lydia, and I don't know where she is now."

"I don't know of any Lydia that's missing," Chris informed her, hoping to make her feel better a little.

"Good," Ashley nodded, "Then maybe she's fine."

"Ashley, tell me something, where have you been since then?"

Ashley started crying and she wiped her eyes, "Scared, hiding, I don't know. I just didn't want my father to get angry with me if he knew the truth, that I'd been trying to sneak into a nightclub and broken my curfew on purpose. I guess I'm just a chicken."

"No, hey, don't say that," Chris encouraged her. "Listen, how about I give you a ride home, and I'll never tell your father anything about the nightclub, you can just say you went to Chester's and it all happened there, okay?"

Ashley looked at him, her eyes bright and hopeful, "Really?"

"Yeah," Chris drew out with a charismatic smirk, standing up and taking her hand. "Besides, I'm pretty sure your parents will be happy just to know you're okay and see you again anyway."

"O-okay," Ashley stuttered a little as she took his hand and stood up with him.

"Chris?" Barry asked from the door as he opened it, "is everything okay?" He'd noticed that Chris seemed to have a visitor, so he'd left him alone for the moment until he heard Chris saying something about leaving.

"Yeah, I'm going to take the lady home, I'll see ya later okay?"

"Sure thing," Barry responded and held the door open for them. Chris escorted Ashley out after grabbing his hat and putting it on his head, and took her to his car, a dark gray 1940 Ford Deluxe Coupe, opened the passengers side door for her, then shut it and walked around to the drivers side.

Once he sat down, Ashley looked at him and she smiled, saying, "I wish I could tell you more about the men who chased us."

"It's all right, Ms Graham, if they're from The 27 Club, I can imagine what kind of guys they were."

He'd started the car and was driving down the road with the windshield wipers on when he heard her saying, "I guess that was pretty stupid, huh?"

"What?"

"Going to a nightclub like that."

"Oh," Chris chuckled, "no, I can remember being young and curious like that as well. I think we all want to do silly things like that when we're younger."

Ashley smiled as she set her hands on her lap and stared at them for a moment. "I don't think I'll ever do it again."

"Be thankful, trust me, a lot worse could've happened than what did, and you got a valuable lesson out of it too."

"Yeah, you're right I think," she smirked again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Chris drove her all the way home, and then watched as her parents hugged her at the door and let her into the house. Once the door shut, he went back to his car and got in, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his trench coat pocket, Lucky Strikes, and lighting one he'd placed between his lips.

The 27 Club, he thought. True, what Ashley had said didn't give him much of a reason to believe that any of the other missing people might be there, for all he knew, it could have just been some guys from the club out for a little trouble, but still, he felt he should at least check it out.

Though he had several reasons he could come up with not to do so.

And the biggest reason had a striking pair of violet eyes and a snappy temper.


	5. Violets and Daggers

The 27 Club is never quiet on a Saturday night. It was like a little piece of New York City or Chicago right there in Racoon, and it had gain so much popularity that some people vacationed there just to visit the club.

The outside was nothing too spectacular, but that was the whole point. It was the inside that was the gem. When you first walked in, colors of silver and blues greeted you on the carpets and walls, and three crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings in the foyer which lead to the ballroom beyond it.

A short decline of steps, and you were right there. Tables covered in fine linen clothes which matched the colors of the carpet and walls were lined up here and there, each decorated with fine china and round glass bowls containing flowers in their centers. The dance floor was just beyond those, and a large, beautifully done crystal chandelier hung over it, giving the room a glassy feel. The blue curtains to the stage helped that look, and the pits on both sides of the stage where the musicians played were edged with lights on the floors.

To the left of the room was the bar, goblets hanging upside down from the racks above the counter, a large mirror lining the wall behind the bar, and cushioned stools stood in line down the extent of it, anchored to the floor.

To the right, steps led up to the enclosed VIP area, booths and a few tables sitting here and there, and from there, you had the best view of the stage and the entire bar in the house, overlooking everyone else.

It'd been a long time since Chris had stepped his foot inside of the club, and he lingered in the foyer for a few minutes, some of the patrons making their way by him, dressed in their finest clothing, and he just shook his head.

From inside the bar, Chris could see the serving girls working their way around the customers, and he overlooked their uniforms for a moment. None of them made it look as good as she did.

His Valentine.

Oh, she hated it when he called her that. She'd nearly slap him every time for it. Her eyes turned to daggers and set on fire. And for that reason alone, he called her that name. Seeing her so riled up was always a treat to him. He could get away with so much more than usual.

But nothing beat her nickname for him though.

Inside the bar, Jill was standing near the goblet racks over the counter, chatting idly with Leon and cleaning the glasses on the racks, and she asked him, "So, where ya from?"

"Chicago," Leon smirked, leaning forward onto the bar counter.

"Chicago, huh? Used to work for Capone?" She chuckled.

"No, not really," Leon grinned at her. "Why, do I look like a gangster?"

"I don't know, I see guys like you everyday, so it's hard to tell the difference anymore."

"Oh, well, I'd hoped I'd stand out from all those other guys."

She chuckled, "Sometimes, it's good just to blend in."

"Yeah, I can see how that'd be effective."

Something about this Leon seemed sweet. He acted like a smartass in ways, but he also acted as if he had a sweeter side to him that he didn't show to just anyone, except maybe the ladies. Jill had to smile over it as she wiped one of the glasses out, and then the music started up. "Uh oh, it's song time." She smirked at him.

Leon turned and looked back at the stage. Surely enough, there was Ada again, and the song 'Luck Be a Lady' by Frank Sinatra had started playing.

The violins began their tune, and Ada started, "They call me lady luck, but there is room for doubt. At times I have a very un-lady-like way of running out."

Leon lifted a brow and tilted his head as she continued, "You're on this date with me, the pickin's have been lush. And yet before the evening is over, I might give you the brush."

The lines made Leon smirk. He'd heard the song before, but never sung by a woman, and he liked it a lot, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was just the woman singing it altogether that made him enjoy it.

"I might forget my manners, I might refuse to stay," Ada sang, then paused before she sung out the next line, "and so the best that you can do is...pray."

The music picked up suddenly, trumpets blaring their lines, and the lights flashed on. Dancers were behind Ada now as she tossed up the feathered boa around her neck, and people began to cheer. Everyone in the dance floor started in to it. Ada continued singing over the trumpets as she walked along the stage, the boa trailing behind her in her hand, "Luck be a lady tonight, luck be a lady tonight. Luck since I've never been a lady to begin with, luck be a lady tonight!"

"Damn," Leon said softly. There was a definite grin on his face that probably couldn't have been wiped off even with a slap.

Jill smirked at how Leon seemed to be enjoying the show, but her smile suddenly faded when she saw someone at the doors to the foyer. Her shoulders lowered as she stared, then she shook her head, walking away from Leon to let him enjoy the show.

Her brown curls bounced around her head while she moved toward the foyer, and then she stopped, standing right in front of Chris Redfield.

Chris couldn't help his smirk. He'd been watching her for the passed few minutes now, standing at the bar, and he couldn't help but think she looked just as pretty now as she did when he'd first seen her.

"Long time, no see, doll."

Jill pursed her lips, and he could see that fire in her eyes already. Oh, he knew he was about to get an earful from her.

And considering what he'd done to her, he knew he deserved every last bit of it.

"You've got a lot of nerve, showing your face around here, Chris Redfield."

Chris sighed, her words stinging his ears just like any slap could, then he shook his head, "What can I say, I'm just begging for punishment."

"Well, you're going to get some. Why are you here anyway? Four months without a word, and now you just show up out of the blue? I know it's not for me." She looked his outfit over, tan trench coat, matching fedora on his head, green tie around his neck and a white button up shirt, wearing suspenders and some neatly pressed trousers. "You look like Humphrey Bogart." She added that without thinking about it.

"I always did say you're my Ingrid Bergman."

Casablanca, Jill thought. Chris had taken her to see that about a month after they'd met when it had been playing at the theater in town. Afterwards, they'd made love because, well, Jill didn't want to have to part from him like the couple in the movie. It might have been a lame reason, but the night had been far from lame itself.

Jill couldn't help herself. She reached up and slapped him with her gloved hand as hard as she could.

I deserved that, Chris thought, but looked back at her anyway despite his slightly stinging cheek. He knew it could have been worse though since she was wearing a glove.

She was still glaring at him. "Just what in the _world_ makes you think you have the right to say that to me, huh?" Her voice was demanding and very angry.

"Nothing," Chris replied casually, and though he really did feel bad for what he'd done, he decided he wouldn't show it. He needed _some_ kind of dignity after all. So he just told her that. "Nothing at all."

"Well," Jill started up, "at least you admit it."

"I can admit a lot, Jill, but honestly, I didn't come here to do that."

As much as Jill wanted to hear him say he did, she buried that part of her down deep inside, and forced herself to concentrate on the present, no matter how much it hurt her that he hadn't come here just to see her.

God's honest truth, she felt like crying. But she forced it all down, because she knew that she'd spent enough tears over this insensitive clod already. "Well, whatever it is, Chugs, you better do it quick. Wesker's here tonight, and if he finds you, he'll send some of his thugs after you."

"I'm not afraid of Wesker," Chris said with a sigh, kind of amused she'd used his nickname again though. Maybe she didn't totally hate him after all.

The music slowed down for a moment, giving the room a somewhat hesitant feel, as if waiting for things to spring forth again. "If I run into him, he won't do anything in front of anyone. Besides, I'm touched that you're still concerned about me, dame."

Jill rolled her eyes and she put her hands on his chest, pushing him back to the front doors of the entire building backwards through the foyer, "No, I just don't want to have a mess to clean up."

Chris grinned down at her, she always had some smartass retort to give him, and he said, "Still the same old Valentine, huh?"

Jill gasped at the name, and then she jerked her arms away from him to leave. Instead of letting her though, Chris grabbed her arm and swung her around so that his back was facing the bar area, and he pulled her up against him, causing her curls to swing around and then fly back into place. "You never did like that nickname, did you?"

"No, now let me go!"

"And what if I don't want to?," he asked.

Jill stopped struggling, a sad look overtaking her face that he knew he'd put there, and as her violet eyes sparkled in the light from the chandeliers, she told him, "You already did."

His brows relaxed a bit, and he tilted his head, sighing, deeply breathing in her perfume. "Damn, Doll," he muttered, "I'm..." He stopped himself. He just couldn't get it out, not where they were, not like they were. Somehow, he didn't think it'd make much of a difference anyway.

Letting go of her hands, he turned and walked back into the ballroom, leaving her standing there quietly. As he left the room, Jill frowned, and in a shaky voice that broke on a sob, she finished for him, "sorry."

With a deep breath, and a big frown, Ada's voice drawing out the final note of the song, and the music landing on a last hard beat, Jill took off to find the ladies room and be alone for a while.


	6. Coming Around

The curtains were drawn down. The music changed, still upbeat, carrying on the mood of the previous song, and Ada bid everyone a good night and thanks for coming by. She left the stage and Leon just smirked when he turned around in his stool and thought to himself for a few minutes.

Chris was standing near one of the corners quietly. His previous meeting with Jill had soured his mood considerably, and he was somewhat thankful that she hadn't come back into the ballroom yet. Instead, his attention, as the lively music played, was focused on the VIP area across the room from him.

And someone else had spotted him as well.

"That was a damned good show tonight," one of the men sitting at the table, smoking a cigar, commented, "I wonder if any of the dancers are gonna stick around."

"Damn Billy, you're always thinking about the dancers."

"So are you, Krauser, lighten up."

"If you two are going to argue over the females in the room, I'd rather you do it somewhere else besides in my company," Wesker told them blandly, "I have other things I'd rather be thinking about." He'd caught sight of someone he'd rather not see there, but he knew it'd probably happen sooner or later.

Still, it wasn't anything welcome, and he added, "Make sure you keep a look out as well. We've got some company I'd rather not get too entangled with right now if you know what I mean."

Krauser looked from his boss back to Billy and he nodded his head and said, "Come on," as he stood up, glancing out at the room from the area he'd been sitting at to see if he could tell who his boss was talking about.

"No problem," Billy replied and he stood as well, walking toward the stairs that led down to the walkway that went to the backstage area. As they went, a woman crossed their paths, Ada, and they nodded their heads to her. She just smirked and went toward the bar area to get her nightly drink.

Her dress was just a tad more subdued now, a red dress with a tight fitting waist and a skirt that went down to the length of her knees. The top was sleeveless and there were sequins around the bust. The collar wrapped around the back of her neck and she had on a pair of matching satin gloves that buttoned around her wrists. The ensemble was dark red.

She was also wearing some rhinestone bracelets and dangling earrings, and her heels clicked as she went. The Cartwheel Hat on her head was tilted to the side, allowing her neck length black hair to curl up against her temple on the opposite side, and she looked every bit the lady as she did luck itself.

"Joey, give me the usual," she called out to the bartender, smirking at him while she waited, putting her gloved hands on the bar.

Her voice had caught Leon's attention, and he glanced over at her. She didn't notice him at first. His eyes traveled up and down her form, outlining each curve, and he liked how sleek she seemed to be. Then his blue eyes went back to her face. "Wonders never cease," he said casually.

Without looking at him, as Joey sat the glass down before her, she asked, "How's that?"

"Well, I think you look better off stage than on, that's all. I just found it a little surprising."

Ada had never heard that one before, so she turned slightly and looked at the man, realizing she'd never seen him in there before either. "Oh? Well, thank you."

"You're welcome, Ms Wong." Leon replied smoothly, being polite.

"And what's your name?"

"Leon Kennedy. Pleased to meet you," he smiled, holding out his hand.

Ada took his hand after eyeing him for a moment, and watched as he put her hand to his lips and kissed it. She smiled. He was definitely a looker. Under the fedora he wore, she could see that he hand a dirty blonde colored hair, but she couldn't exactly tell how it was cut. His suit was nicely tailored, black, with a red tie, and he had a white scarf around his neck. His shoes also left little to be desired, black with white patterns across the tops of them, completing his zoot suit ensemble.

His eyes were a soft shade of blue, if not a little icy, and she liked that. "Likewise," she smirked at him, "Ever been here before?"

"No, I can't say that I have, though I've heard of it. Its reputation is well founded."

"Oh, I see," Ada told him, lifting her martini to her lips as she sipped the contents and turned her side to the bar, leaning up against it. "You're one of those ones who came to visit Racoon just for seeing this place."

"Yeah, something like that," Leon smirked at her and turned in his chair. The truth was that Leon hadn't thought he'd have gotten this much attention from her so far, he'd thought she would have walked off, but as it turned out, she seemed to be slightly interested in talking to him.

Now that he could see better, he saw what color her eyes were, an almond brown that he liked, and he heard her asking him, "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh, more than just enjoyed. The last number you did was a treat. Never heard that Sinatra song sung totally by a woman before."

"I like it," Ada grinned, "it's one of my favorites."

"Well, you do it well," Leon praised her, crossing one leg over his knee. "You perform every night?"

"No, Friday's and Saturdays only. Sometimes if someone requests it specifically. And what about you, do you always go to bars at night, or is it just a Saturday thing?"

"Depends on my mood," Leon smirked at her, adjusting his hat. "How long have you been working this gig now?"

"Half a year," she smiled, "since the place opened."

"Any plans on going big? Getting on the radio?"

"No," Ada chuckled softly, "not really."

"Why not? You'd be perfect for it."

"Well, I," Ada said, the she stopped herself, clearing her throat, "I'm just not ready for that step yet. Besides, how many Asians do you see with their own record labels?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It shouldn't matter what race you are."

"Well, ever since the war started and ended, it's been a little bit harder to do things, you know? I'd rather have some popularity here and be safe than risk it all and lose everything."

"Can't say I blame, but I still think you could," he chuckled. "So, what lucky man's waiting for your attention tonight, Lady Luck?"

"Well," Ada replied, looking out over the crowd, and then glancing at the VIP area where Wesker sat. "No one really," she shrugged, "just maybe one person wanting to say hello to me."

Leon glanced toward the VIP booth, and he'd wondered if she'd meant Wesker. It would've made perfect sense, of course. Perhaps he'd been right all along. "Well," he started, "don't let me keep you."

Glancing back at him, she lifted half of her ruby red lips in a smirk, and then she stood up straight, "You planning on leaving any time soon?"

"Not really," Leon smiled, "maybe we'll talk again before the night is over with."

"Yeah," she chuckled, "maybe we will." Then she walked toward the steps leading down into the dance floor area and headed toward the opposite side of the room.

Leon shook his head slowly as he watched her go, then he sat back took a slow breath. Idly, he nodded at the bartender when the man asked him if he wanted a refill on his drink.

"You always do that song justice when you perform it, Angel," Wesker told Ada when she approached him.

As she walked behind him, she let her fingers trail around his shoulder, over the back of his neck, and to the other before she sat down beside him. Her glass in the other hand, she sipped it before she told him, "You know why, I think."

Wesker chuckled lowly at her comment and then he looked ahead again, "I see you've also managed to meet the visitor we have as well without even knowing who he is beforehand. Bravo."

"I thought that might be him," Ada admitted, sitting back in her chair with her glass cradled against her lap in her hand, one leg crossed over the other. "His name's Leon Kennedy if you want to know."

"Leon, hmm?" Wesker got quiet for a moment as if committing that name to memory. Then he reached for his own drink and took a swallow of it, flexing his jaw as the warm liquid slowly burned its way down his throat, "Did he say anything else so far?"

"No, but he seems like a nice guy."

"All the better for you to snake your way around him, hmm?" Wesker asked her, insinuating that she was just another one of those deceitful women, using her charms to get what she wanted from a man.

It was insulting, but Wesker had the privilege, and not just because he kept her so well. He did because he was untouchable by society, he was above it, and to mess with him was to mess with an entire mob that you did not want to piss off. Not even Ada wanted to do that. So she took it all in stride. Besides, it wasn't as if he didn't know from personal experience, because he was quite the snake himself.

"Well, just maybe," Ada smiled at him, then she sipped her own drink again as well. "Where'd you send your little cronies anyway?"

"They're probably backstage arguing over which dancer has the biggest bust."

"Oh, typical Saturday night then I suppose."

"I have a visitor of my own, Ada." Wesker told her suddenly. "Why don't you go give Mr. Kennedy a little more of your attentions while I have my own conversation here now."

Ada looked up when he said that, and she a man who looked a little familiar walking up the steps into the VIP area when Wesker nodded to one of his men that it was okay to let the guy pass for now. Then she shrugged a little and stood up, saying, "Just don't get jealous and cause a scene, Albert." As she walked away from the table.

"I won't," he replied casually, without any thought. Ada made herself keep walking, instead of stopping and looking back at him like she wanted to. As she went though, walking passed the man who was going to see Wesker obviously, she only thought one word. And that word was 'dirtbag'.

That man had some kind of nerve.


	7. 20 Questions

"Chris Redfield," Wesker muttered blandly as he leaned back in his chair, relaxing. Neither men liked each other, in fact, the despised each other, and though there was a lot of tension between the two, neither of them would do anything to the other in front of everyone else in the ballroom. Which was why Chris had chosen to go talk to him now.

"Albert Wesker," Chris returned the tone. "Mind if I sit down for a minute?" The question was polite, but in a sarcastic kind of way.

Wesker didn't verbally respond, he only tilted his head a little in a manner that said for him to go ahead and sit in the seat across from him, and Chris pulled out the chair with his foot and sat down.

"So, to what do I owe having your company this evening?"

Chris snorted, knowing he and Wesker were both unhappy they had to spend _any_ time in one anothers company, but it couldn't be helped. And while Chris knew that the man wouldn't tell him anything truthfully, he also knew that he could ask some general questions, and whatever Wesker said, he could put to the test.

"I was just curious if you've lowered the age limit of people who can come in here?"

"Is that all?" Wesker scoffed, "Sounds to me like you're working a case and clinging to breadcrumbs than trying to get some general information."

Chris rolled his blue eyes at the comment. Instead of giving it any recognition though, he simply insisted, "Well, did ya? What is it, 21?"

"Still, yes. Why, are you ready to try and get some extra money out of your sister? Angry she's still 20?"

Chris ignored the insult. Claire had actually turned 21 recently, but Chris wasn't about to tell Wesker that. "No, what about you? Not getting enough money out of your own girls? Feeling the need to send out some of your goons and kidnap some of 'em?"

Wesker chuckled at the thought and told Chris, "Look around. Tell me if you don't think this place is producing enough money for me, and I'll tell you that you're crazy."

Chris smirked, his head tilted forward slightly, the fedora casting a shadow across half of it. Wesker shook his head at the man, putting his glass down on the table and then looking toward the bar area for a moment. Ada was talking to Leon, sitting on a stool next to him. That was good, Wesker thought, he hoped she kept talking to him.

Chris brought him from his thoughts though when he asked, "Then why would your guys chase two girls from the club far enough away to suggest they wanted more than to get them away from the club because of their age?"

Wesker narrowed his brows, "And just when did this happen?"

"Yesterday evening."

Wesker looked as if he were thinking back, then he smiled and sat back once again, chuckling, "A blonde and a brunette?"

Chris knew one of them was a blonde for sure, so he just nodded, "Yeah, that's it."

"They snuck into the bar pretending to be 21, things didn't go smoothly for them."

"Smoothly?"

"You and I both know how touchy a young woman can be when she sees the kind of displays on stage that constantly take place here. They were getting upset, so two of my guys escorted them out."

Chris scoffed, "I'll believe that the day the moon turns green."

"If you're not going to believe what I say, then why did you come here?"

Chris felt a surge of anger rising up in him, the need to just deck the man almost taking over, but he kept it down.

Wesker could see the anger on his face, and he went on, "I know why. It's because you're a washup, Chris. You fail to solve more cases than you succeed to, and your skills are going out the window."

Chris glared at Wesker. "If that's so, then why is it you're still pissed that I'm around. You'll slip up one of these days, Wesker, and when you do, you know I'll be there."

It was easier for Wesker to hide his anger because of his shades, but he did feel angry over the comment nonetheless.

There was something that he'd said though which Chris had to question. He'd said the girls had actually come into the club, and Ashley had said she and her friend had chickened out. Chris wondered if she had just been too embarrassed to tell him the truth or not. It made him question a lot of things. But instead of asking here and now, Chris just concentrated on the moment, and he'd noticed that Wesker hadn't said anything, so he just stood up casually and told him, "Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't worry, Wesker, it won't be too much longer now."

Chris went to walk off when he heard Wesker saying from behind him, "Yes, but for which one of us?"

Chris stopped for just a moment, but he decided against replying to that question, and just walked on, tilting his hat forward as he left.

Wesker watched him leaving the VIP area, and one of his men that was sitting near by had stood up and walked over to the table. Without looking at the man, Wesker said, "Watch him. When he leaves the bar, follow him. You know what to do."

"No problem, boss," the mans low voice replied, and he walked away from the table and sat back down, doing exactly as Wesker had instructed.

"Yes, it will be soon indeed, Chris," Wesker commented dryly, yet meaningfully, as he lifted his glass again and took another drink of the contents, downing it completely.


	8. My Friend, My Enemy

Chris hadn't hung out at the club for much longer once he'd left Wesker's presence, maybe only an hour, and while he knew the kind of people he was around, he didn't witness anything out of the ordinary. So he finally left at around nine, since Claire would worry if he didn't get back home sometime around then.

Having parked his car around the corner down the road because of the other people who were already parked right outside, taking up all the closer spaces, he pulled a coin out of his pocket and tossed it up into the air a few times casually, just thinking to himself. Thinking about Jill more than anything.

He had a lot of regrets when it came to her. A lot.

The snow had stopped falling finally, letting the moon out of the clouds for a little fresh air, and his breath showed up in steam around his head as he went on. Without knowing it, two men followed him out of the bar silently.

Rounding the corner, Chris saw someone leaning up against his car, and he sighed, wondering if this was more of Weskers doings. He got the feeling somehow that it was. After all, Wesker controlled nearly everything around there. Chris wouldn't be surprised at all.

As he approached his car, the man leaning against it told him, "Nice tin can, buddy."

Chris didn't reply.

The two men that had been following him had rounded the corner. Chris was still unaware of them, and it gave them the advantage. When the guy distracted him a little with his words, they moved behind him quickly, and grabbed him by the arms. They started pulling him into the alleyway nearby.

Chris struggled, but he was thrown forward before he could do too much.

Coming to a stop and turning around, he glared at the three men coming toward him now, blocking the exit of the alleyway, and the one in the middle started, "What's your hurry?"

Chris sighed. He hated it when these kind of guys thought they could get away with anything, and that was usually the case. He shrugged slightly in response, "Quite frankly, I was afraid you were gonna ask me out on a date."

That seemed to piss the guy off, and he folded his arms over his chest. Chris knew why they were doing this already, he didn't have to ask. Wesker had told them to. Wesker wanted Chris to know that he didn't appreciate Chris snooping around his nightclub for anything. And these guys were how he was telling Chris that.

"Ya know," the man in the middle replied, "I'm not even gonna talk. Grab him," he told the other guys.

The other two moved toward Chris, and Chris managed to get a good right hook on the first mans jaw, then he jabbed the second man in the gut. After that, he was met with the handle of a magnum to his forehead, cracking his head pretty good.

Chris's hat fell to the ground, being picked up by the wind and blown toward the exit of the alleyway, and as Chris lost his balance, the other two guys he'd just hit had grabbed his arms.

Chris shook his head, trying to clear it, blood dripped down the side of his face from his brown hair slowly, and the man who'd hit him with the gun handle stepped toward him. Then he shoved his fist into Chris's gut without hesitation.

Chris coughed and gasped for breath, hacking. He slumped down as well, but the two men holding him kept him upright. Chris wondered if he'd be able to go home now and hide whatever they'd end up doing to him from Claire or not. Three on one wasn't exactly a fair fight after all.

Chris's hat had finally landed behind the men quietly, near a pair of slick black and white zoot shoes, and a gloved hand reached down to pick it up. Leon stood up straight and he set the fedora he'd just picked up somewhere that it wouldn't blow away, then he walked toward the unsuspecting men quietly.

"I never did like you detective types much," the man who'd been hitting Chris had said. "Guess I get to show you how much now, huh?"

Chris didn't have anything to say to the guy once again, he was still trying to fight the nausea he felt from getting hit in the gut, when a loud clunk was heard. The man who'd been about to hit Chris again fell over, unconscious, leaving Leon standing behind him with a pipe. The light from the street lamp behind them kept Leon's face shadowed under the rim of his hat, but that didn't matter to Chris.

Chris took advantage of the other two mens distraction and he yanked his arm away from one and punched the other as hard as he could, considering how he'd been hit before himself. It worked though, and sent the guy reeling.

Leon finished off the job by swinging the pipe at the last mans arm because he was still holding onto Chris, and when it hit, the man yelled in pain and let go of Chris, holding his arm tightly against his side, "You broke my fucking arm!"

"I'll break more than that if you don't get outta here," Leon told him lowly. The guy looked around after Leon said that, realizing his buddies were out of commission for the moment, and then he ran for it.

Once he was gone, Leon leaned down and took Chris's arm, helping him up. "You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah," Chris breathed heavily, "as soon as I can catch my breath."

"Well, you'd better catch it getting out of here. They'll probably send someone else out any minute now."

"Right," Chris drew out, then he started moving with the man who'd just saved his hide, looking over at him, "you need a lift?"

Leon hesitated for a moment as they walked toward the exit of the alleyway, grabbing the hat from where he'd set it, then he handed it to Chris, "I think you dropped this."

Chris took it, saying, "Thanks." Then he put it on and went to his car. Looking back, he saw Leon still standing there on the sidewalk, and he asked, "Coming?"

Leon sighed, then he nodded and walked toward the car, "Yeah," he told Chris before he got in. "You sure you should be driving with that bump on your head?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's not as bad as it feels."

"And it doesn't look it either," Leon replied sarcastically, looking at the blood streaking down the side of his face.

Once they were both inside, and the car was moving down the road, Chris glanced in the rearview mirror and he saw the blood. "Shit," he grumbled, "I'm gonna have to clean up before I get home."

"Why is that? Might worry the misses?"

"Something like that, but she's not my misses, she's my sister."

"Oh," Leon replied, "why were those guys hassling you anyway?"

"Wesker's goons. They thought they could scare me off for good."

"Wesker, huh?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"I'll just say I've heard of him."

Chris glanced at the man for a moment and he realized that the guy could possibly be a gangster himself. Then he asked, "Why were you so hesitant to get a ride from me? Because I'm a detective?"

"Shit," Leon cussed, "You're a fucking cop?"

Chris couldn't help his slight laughter. "Don't worry, I don't know you. So, is that why?"

"Actually, I wasn't sure I was ready to ride with a guy who was about to get beaten up. Thought I might be getting into trouble or something if I did," Leon explained.

Chris smirked, "I suppose that's a good enough reason."

"Just take me to the hotel on Ennerdale street, The Claybourne Suites."

"No troubles," Chris told him in response, and made a few turns to head that way. "You wouldn't mind if I came in for a minute to clean this up, would ya? My head I mean."

"No, not really." Leon said and then glanced at him, "Are you after Wesker?"

"Always, but not this time in particular. Just some information." Chris stopped the car at a corner, then asked Leon, "I saw you talking to Ada Wong before I left, know her?"

"Nah, just met her. She's a catch, huh?"

"Yeah, but I would suggest you throw her back. She's bad news."

Leon glanced at Chris for a moment, then he shrugged his shoulders, "Guess it's a good thing I like 'em naughty."

"Well, she takes the cake, so you'll probably love her." Chris pulled the car into the hotel's parking lot, and he turned it off. "She's pretty close to Wesker, so if you're here for something to do with him, I'd suggest you be very careful around her. She's liable to tell him anything you say to her."

"I'd thought of that already," Leon told him, "I'm not too worried about it."

"I hope not. Women like her only care about one thing."

"Yeah, I know women like her," Leon grumbled, getting out of the car. From the conversation he'd had with Ada before he'd left the nightclub, he didn't want to think that she'd be as bad as some of the others, but he knew that one meeting didn't tell him much of anything about her. Still, he'd just hoped that from the way she talked, she was just trying to keep herself afloat, nothing more.

Chris shook his head, then he stood up and followed Leon inside. The hotel room lobby was decorated in red and gold, very nice looking, and probably pretty damned expensive, making Chris think that the man probably had a lot to spend. Then Chris had a thought and he asked, "Hey, what's your name anyway?"

"Leon Kennedy," he replied. "And you?"

"Chris Redfield."

They got onto the elevator without saying anything further for the time being with the people around, and the operator turned the lever when Leon told him what floor to go to. Chris was already getting strange looks anyway because of the blood trail down the side of his face. He didn't need anyone actually listening in to their conversation because of that, so they just stayed quiet for the time being.

Once they'd reached the floor Leon was staying on, and were walking down the hallway, Chris asked Leon, "Why did you save my ass back there, anyway?"

Leon shrugged, "I don't wanna let anyone get beat up by Wesker's guys. That's all."

Something told Chris that Leon might've just not liked to see anyone get hurt period if they didn't have to be, but he decided not to say anything about it. Instead, he just followed Leon into his hotel room, and he said, "Well, whatever it was for, thanks."

"Heh," Leon chuckled, "if I'd known you were a detective, I might've let them beat on you some."

Chris smirked at the comment, and as he walked into the bathroom, he told him, "If I'd known you were a mobster, and you'd been in my shoes, I would've let them do the same."

The bathroom door shut, and Leon just smiled behind him. Despite the fact that Chris was a cop, he could see liking the guy easily somehow.

A few minutes later, Chris had left the bathroom with his face and head cleaned up nicely, and he told Leon, "Thanks. So, are you from around here?"

"Nah, I'm from Chicago." Leon leaned against the wall, pulling his hat off and tossing it onto the table. His dirty dark blonde hair was hanging by his face now that it wasn't hidden by the hat, and he brushed his fingers through it as he asked, "You go to the club often?"

"I used to," Chris shrugged slightly, "but that was several months ago."

"Oh yeah? What happened? Some girl working there that you don't wanna see?"

"No, I wanna see her," Chris said, "I just can't at the moment. How did you know?"

Leon snorted, "Actually, I saw you talking to that serving girl when you first came in. I saw her slap you."

Chris fingered his cheek thoughtfully when Leon reminded him of the slap, could still feel it lingering on his face, and he sighed, "Yeah, she's a feisty one when she wants to be."

"She seemed pretty nice to me," Leon told him, "why'd she slap you?"

Chris snorted, then he looked at Leon, "For calling her Ingrid Bergman."

That confused Leon, "But Ingrid Bergman's a doll. I don't get it."

"It's complicated," Chris chuckled softly.

"You know, I'm probably gonna hate myself for this later, Redfield, but I gotta ask, what do you know about that club?"

"If you're planning on taking the place down in some kind of mob war, I can't tell ya anything," Chris replied seriously.

"No, nothing like that. I'm not here to start any wars. Just to even a score."

"With Wesker?"

"You do good detective work, but yeah, not like it wasn't obvious. Is he usually there?"

"When I used to go there a lot, yeah, he was usually there on the weekends, and sometimes during the week days."

"Any idea where he might be in between?"

"You're guess is as good as mine. Taking the Ecliptic Express out of town, doing deals, who knows. He's a slippery bastard."

"Seems so. Does he just not like you because you're a detective?"

Chris shook his head, "No, there's another reason, but I'm not at liberty to say, kind of like you."

There was a definite tension that had grown in the room, and neither men were willing to spill more than they had to. But Leon went ahead and told him, "You know, if you wanna nail the greaseball, you could probably use a little help."

"You offering?"

"Maybe." Leon shrugged slightly, "Let's face it, we might have a better chance of getting what we both want if we worked together."

Chris thought about it for a moment and he pulled out another Lucky Strike and lit it up. Then he shook his head slowly, "I don't know, Kennedy, it seems like some pretty risky business to me. We're on different sides of the track, and working together might not be in either of our best interests."

"Well, can't say I didn't try," Leon told him, pulling his gloves off and tossing them to the table with his hat, then he stood up straight. "Well, I need my beauty sleep. If you wanna change your mind, you know where I am."

"Yeah," Chris nodded, watching the man taking off his scarf, then heading to the bathroom. He continued to think about his offer for a moment, then he walked to the door, and opened it, leaving the hotel room for the time being. He had to call Claire and let her know he was coming home anyway. He could do so in the hotel room lobby.


	9. Taming the Savage Beast

The sheets rustled in the pale blue light filtering in through the windows. The bed squeaked slightly, and rocked from their motions.

Ada cried out when Wesker rammed his hips down into hers, again and again, making her clutch her legs against his hips tightly as she held onto him. Wesker had been fairly rough that night, undeniable, and greedy. And every time she cried out, he'd only get rougher and harder.

A fine sheen of sweat made their bodies glisten slightly, and he'd started hurting her, but he wouldn't stop.

Ada cringed, the pleasure and pain mixing, and though she wasn't one to appreciate pain, the pleasure was making up for it. Besides, she liked it when he was this carnal with her.

With a final hard push, Wesker grunted as he spilled himself inside of her body, closing his blue eyes and letting his release take him, overwhelm him, make him forget for just a short while.

Ada shivered from the pleasure her own release had given her, and she laid back against the pillows with him, his head on her chest. Her almond colored eyes shut and she just sighed her pleasures out, her fingers laying against his back. She murmured, "You seemed a little more rough tonight than usual. Mad about something?"

"Nothing you need to bring up right now."

She shrugged just slightly and decided he was probably right. So instead, she drew her fingertips down his spine, and told him, "I just mean that it was hot."

He didn't make a response except to smirk slightly. They were in his hotel, named for the nightclub he owned, which was adjacent to it on the street. Wesker's room was the penthouse suite on the top floor. Their clothes were strewn about it in different areas, and while Ada had her own room, she'd always liked his better for some reason. It wasn't because it was bigger, but because she liked how he'd had it designed. His style was flawless in her opinion.

Finally, Wesker pushed himself over and lay against the pillows beside her, the windows beyond the bed overlooking the nighttime city and the Circular River in the distance. The horns of the Ecliptic Express could be heard blowing as it made its midnight run.

The muscle of Wesker's nicely built chest moved fluidly as he lifted his arm up and put it back behind his head. Ada watched him for a moment, wondering what he was thinking about, but she was having thoughts of her own, thoughts about earlier, at the bar, talking to Leon.

It'd actually been nice to talk to someone other than the same old goons all the time, she thought, but she wasn't going to tell Wesker that.

Leon was somewhat hard to read. It might've been because of Ada's past though, her current situation, and how paranoid she was, but then again, he seemed to have something about him that made him seem trustworthy. Ada couldn't put her finger on it, but she'd wanted to just sit there and talk to him all night.

But, she'd had to go. Not only was it getting later, but she was also getting hungry, which would have to be taken care of before she turned in for the night. She didn't like being hungry when she was in bed with Wesker. It took all the enjoyment out of everything they did.

"So," Wesker asked suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, breaking her thoughts for the moment, "what of Mr. Kennedy?"

Ada smirked and she sat forward, the blanket covering her body from view, and she grabbed her cigarettes, placing one between her lips. After lighting it up, she said, "He's from Chicago, so maybe one of those big time mobs if you're thinking that's what he is, but honestly, I can't tell for sure. He seems to have a side to him that's a little too nice to be."

"Interesting, go on," Wesker urged her, finally opening his eyes and glancing in her direction.

"He said he was going to come back sometime soon. I told him I'd look forward to it. But he claims he's in town just because he wanted to see your club."

"Did he say my name in particular?"

"No, he just said The 27 Club, nothing about you."

"Hmm," Wesker drew out casually, thinking. "Either he's really smart, or he's not after much of anything at all."

"Albert, how did you know he was a mobster to begin with?"

"I have an eye for those types of things."

Ada sighed at his response. He could be pretty vague when he wanted to be, and so she just let it go for the moment. Glancing over at him, she saw that he was still watching her, and she lifted a brow. Then she reached over and pushed some of his hair back that had fallen out of place. "What if he's here for something besides the club?"

"You already know the answer to that, Ada."

"Yeah," she drew out slowly. "I know."

It wasn't Ada's place to question anything Wesker did or wanted to do. And she knew that if she asked him too many questions, he'd get angry perhaps, and wonder why she was so curious. Then he'd tell her something along the lines of keeping her lovely eyes on her own target for the moment, which was Leon, and not to worry about what he was going to do in particular. There was so much going on that Ada didn't know about, and she also knew that it was designed to be that way. She was going to be kept in the dark on several things, whether she liked it or not.

"Why so quiet, Angel?"

"Hmm? Oh, just thinking."

"About what?"

Ada shrugged, "About how I can get Leon to trust me a little more. I think I know a surefire way as well."

"Oh? What's that?" He asked, drawing the backs of his fingertips up her arm, making her shiver slightly.

Ada glanced at him and she replied, "My voice of course. Music tames the savage beast after all."


	10. Homecoming

"Look at all those uniforms," the young blonde haired girl chuckled.

"What's the matter, Maude, forgetting that you've already got a boyfriend?"

Maude was only eighteen years old, but she'd been playing at twenty one so she could have a job, and she was standing at the bar with a number of other girls working that night as the men dressed in uniform with wedge caps on and stars decorating their shirts came into the club, all of them just arriving home from being in the war.

Maude chuckled when Jill asked her that, and she shrugged slightly. Her boyfriend had returned several months before due to injury, and her only response was, "What? I can look. So no, I'm not forgetting."

Maude walked off, and Jill shook her head at the energetic young woman. The other girls all started working as well, and despite the fact that it was a weekday, they got pretty busy that night because of the men returning home from overseas.

The party was pretty intense, and as it drug on, men started leaving with their wives, girlfriends, and other women they'd just met, or had just come there with for a night out on the town with a date.

A lot of the men were handsome as well, but some were too old, and some just not attractive in Jill's opinion. Still, she didn't really care. She wasn't looking for anyone to hook up with. And she thought it was kind of funny that she was single and wasn't looking, but Maude was taken and she was trying to flirt with nearly every guy in the room.

But there was one guy in particular who was just sitting by himself for most of the night, and Jill couldn't help but get curious about him. He had handsome blue eyes and brown hair, wearing another one of those wedge caps, and his uniform was well kept and made him look, quite honestly, very tempting to go and talk to, maybe flirt with a little. She watched him as he chugged down a beer he'd ordered, then get another one and drink most of that one too. It made her smirk to see him drinking like that.

"Hey, Jill," Maude called with her New York accent as she came up behind her, "you talk to that guy yet or not?"

"Nah," Jill told her, "I was just a little curious about him."

"His name's Chris, I talked to him earlier. I think he's cute, and I think you should go tell him your name too, honey."

Jill shook her head, "Chris, huh? I think I'd rather call him Chugs."

Maude giggled and she looked back when someone called her name, waving her hand, "Yeah, yeah Joey, in a minute! I'm workin' here!" Then Maude clicked her tongue as she looked back at Jill, and asked, "So, you gonna go over there and talk to him or stand there with her panties in a bunch?"

Jill smirked at Maude's choice of words, but she shrugged, "I might." She had to admit, she was rather interested in him, if only to find out why he was alone when he was such a good looking guy.

"Okay, well, tell me how it turns out!? Let me run before Joey blows a gasket," She said, running off so she could go see what Joey wanted, and Jill could hear her yelling, "I was coming Joey, keep your pants on, good grief!"

Jill sighed, then she put her tray down and gathered her guts, fluffed her hair a bit, took a deep breath, and walked over to the table where Chris sat. Coming up beside him and tilting her head to the side, she asked, "Hey, can I get you something?"

Chris slowly turned and looked back. When he saw the lady standing there, his eyes traveled from her feet up to her face, admiring each curved line of her form, and finally, when his eyes met hers, despite the volume of alcohol he had in him, he said rather clearly, "Yeah, you can get me a seat."

"A seat? But you're already sitting."

"Yeah, I know, but the seat would be for you."

Jill couldn't help it. She grinned widely. No one had ever asked her to sit with them like that before, in such a creative way, and she just asked, "Why, you lonely or somethin'?"

"I'll just say it'd be a shame not to have such a pretty dame sitting with me for a while." The tone of Chris' voice sounded serious, but also playful.

Jill had to sit down with him now just because of how he'd asked her, and so she stepped over to the chair on the side of the table next to his and took a seat.

"What's your name?" Chris asked her when she sat down, a smooth smile on his face.

"Jill Valentine."

His smile turned into a grin, "I like that. Jill Valentine." He chuckled softly, then said, "I'm Chris Redfield, ma'am. So, your shift must be over."

Jill nodded, "Yeah, thankfully. So, how long have you been back in town?"

"Oh, about six hours now maybe."

That surprised her. She'd figured he'd at least been there all day, if not for a few days, and she leaned her arms onto the table, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why are you alone? No one to come home to?"

"Well, I have a sister," he said, "but I haven't seen her yet. She's over in Indiana, staying with some relatives of a close friend. She won't be back until tomorrow I think."

"Oh, well, at least you have someone to come back to, right? Someone waiting on you. That's always a good thing." At least she knew now why he was alone.

"What about you? Married? Waiting on someone yourself?"

"Nah," Jill chuckled, "I don't have anyone coming back to me. I'd probably worry myself to death over them if I did."

"Are you married though?" Chris insisted with a devious smirk on his lips.

"And just why would you want to know that, sir?" Jill retorted, a playful tone to her voice.

"Because I'm afraid that I'm going to be flirting with you soon, so I need to know." Chris didn't seem at all ashamed about that fact.

Jill eyed him quietly. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but she replied, "Then I think I'll let you hang in the dark on that for just a little while longer."

"That's cruel, ma'am," Chris chuckled, "I hope your husband doesn't get jealous."

"He won't if he doesn't know you did it." Jill smiled. She was liking him so far. At least he had the decency to ask if she was married first, she thought, instead of just starting in with a cheesy pick up line.

"Well, if he doesn't know about it, then maybe he won't know that I'd like to take you out sometime."

"Getting off to a quick start?"

"You know, it's kind of funny."

"What's that?"

"I don't usually. Especially not around such a good looking girl, but I guess I feel comfortable. Might be the beer."

Jill laughed at how he eyed his mug after he said that, and she sat back, "Is that so, Chugs?"

"Chugs?" Chris asked, lifting a brow.

"Uh huh," she grinned, "you were chugging beer just before I came over here. I told one of the girls I thought the name fit."

"Was it Maude?"

"Yeah, actually."

"She's a spunky little thing. Kind of high strung."

"I know, trust me, I work with her."

Chris continued smiling at her, and then he leaned forward with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Chugs, huh? I think I could like that."

They must've have sat there and talked for hours, just chatting about things that really made no difference, and Chris walked her home before they were done.

Apparently, he'd flown for the air force in the war, Jill found out, and now he was going back to what he'd done before; investigating. She thought he'd look good in one of those detective outfits like they always wore in the movies. The thought made her smirk. Of course, he looked good in his uniform anyway, so she didn't really care.

As Jill went up the steps to the building she lived in, she glanced back at the soldier who'd brought her home. The building was situated on a road that had several trees growing along the sidewalks with fences around their barks, and a few cars were parked here and there. The streets had recently been slicked with rain, and the air was cooler now, smelled very nice.

Jill smiled, her arms hugging her long black coat around her tightly which was covering her uniform, and she told him, "Thank you, Chugs," since he seemed to get a kick out of that nickname, "for walking me home."

"You're welcome, ma'am." There was an unwavering smile on his face as if he couldn't have been happier to do so.

"You can call me Jill."

"Oh? Think your husband is far enough away not to hear that?"

Finally, Jill grinned, turning her head to the door, and then looking back at Chris, saying softly, "I'm not married."

Chris leaned in, "Hmm? What was that?" He pretended to not be able to hear her.

"I said," she spoke a little louder, her smile wide, "I'm not married."

"Oh? Well, there's something we have in common. Neither am I."

They just looked at each other for a moment, both of them still smiling at one another, and Chris took a step back down off of the steps in respect to the lady before him. "So, will I see you again, Jill?"

"Maybe. If you come back by the club." Jill's response was definitely smartassed.

"That's low," Chris laughed, and Jill was chuckling. "I mean if I stop by here maybe, to take you out to dinner. Say tomorrow around eight?"

"That's nice, Chugs," Jill smirked, "but I'm working tomorrow at eight."

Chris looked genuinely disappointed, but he looked back up at her when she said, "How about nine?"

"Nine it is, madame," he grinned.

"Alright then, nine."

They both got a little quiet.

"Goodnight," she smirked.

He didn't seem to want to go anywhere, "Night."

She laughed, "You're supposed to leave now."

"Who says?"

"Chris," Jill rolled her eyes, "just go home." Despite her tone of voice, she was still grinning.

She'd also started backing away from him to the door. Chris watched her. Stopping briefly, she added, "One more thing."

"What's that?"

"Welcome back home."

"It's good to be here," Chris told her solemnly.

It was like they couldn't stop looking at each other. Jill didn't want to go in. But she knew she had to. With a shake of her head, she turned around and went inside, giving him one last look before the door shut completely.

When it did, Chris looked down and turned his head away. Whistling a light and happy tune, he started walking down the road, shoving his hands into his pockets, like he didn't have a care in the world, as if he were right at home.

And he was.


	11. Your Shadow

Claire wasn't fooled by her brother. He tried to hide the bump on his head, but she knew he had one. To keep his dignity intact, however, she didn't say anything about it, or ask where he'd gotten it from.

Instead, she'd left him a bowel of warm water and some wash clothes next to his bed incase he needed them, and went back to her own room to go to sleep for the night.

Her alarm clock went off at seven the next morning, and having a job working in a hosery mill, a job she'd been able to keep since the war ended, she got up and got dressed in her work clothes, a blue button up shirt and a pair of black trousers, and she put on her long coat and gloves before she left. She didn't know how much longer she'd keep the job before she went on to something else, but for now, she liked having it because of the extra money she brought it. She got paid six dollars an hour, and that was more than she'd ever dreamed she'd get paid for a job.

But there was one very good reason she was wanting to give it up. The police chief, her brother's boss, Brian Irons. The man visited the factory from time to time because he had a friend working there, and every time he came around, Claire felt like he was staring at her, and not in a very good way at all.

The man gave her the creeps and made her skin crawl.

She hadn't said anything to Chris about it, afraid he'd lose his job over it, getting angry and confronting Brian at work. So Chris had let her continue working there until she could find something else to do, such as working at The Soda Shoppe on Ema street, near where they lived. Besides, Claire knew she could handle herself until then.

It was a typical day though, thankfully, a nice bright Sunday morning, and the factory was never open too long on Sundays. About three hours in the morning to clean up before the next week started, and then everyone went home.

So Claire was in and out, and she walked down the road quietly from the mill, declining to catch a taxi cab because the morning was nice and brisk enough to walk.

Her red hair curled around her face, and she'd had the back of it twisted into a pony tail at the base of her neck, as was the style for most ponytails. The wind whipped a few random curls from her bangs and around her head as she went, and she stopped on the corner and looked across the street at Chester's.

Tilting her head in thought, she wondered if she should go in and have a look around, see if there was anything nice in the store that she or Chris might want to get while the sale lasted, but she hesitated for a moment.

As much as she knew she was supposed to be a lady, she couldn't help but feel that she didn't like shopping much. In truth, she'd actually grown to like the trousers she'd been wearing for work a lot, and had sometimes even worn them around the house when she wasn't up to anything much. But a lot of women had been wearing trousers lately, so she didn't feel all that badly about it.

A red convertible with its hood up pulled around to the front of the store and parked while Claire watched, bringing her out of her thoughts. A women who looked Asian to Claire, wearing a pair of sunglasses, with neck length black hair that was covered by an expensive looking cartwheel hat tilted to the side of her head, got out of the car and headed inside. Claire thought she looked like the epitome of what it meant to be a woman and flaunt it.

She felt somewhat jealous, but then again, she didn't. She could only wonder if someday, since she was no longer really attached to anyone, her more boyish mannerisms would keep someone from liking her. But then again, if they didn't, it obviously wasn't meant to be. So she just ignored the pretty woman's appearance for now and decided she wouldn't let it bother her.

Claire also decided to just go to Chester's with Chris later and shop then. At least she'd have more fun browsing with her brother around. She'd usually bother him with questions to the salesman of intimate apparel. The thought made her smile brightly.

"Claire!" She suddenly heard someone calling her.

Stopping to look back, Claire saw Rebecca running toward her from across the street, and stopping when she got close enough to her friend, "Hey, are you going home?"

"Yes, I was. What are you doing out here?"

"Well, I was going to go shopping. I just saw you walking down the street."

"After Christmas Sale at Chester's, huh?"

"Yeah," Rebecca smiled and she looked over at the store. "Ada Wong's there though. I just saw her go in. Kind of makes you hesitant to go inside."

"Ada Wong?," Claire asked. Then it hit her. That singer from the nightclub. She wondered why she hadn't realized it before, but then again, it wasn't as if she'd ever seen the woman in person. Not to mention she'd been wearing sunglasses anyway. "Yeah, might be a flock of guys coming here pretty soon to try and ask her out, or just ogle her."

Rebecca started giggling softly, and she put a hand on Claire's shoulder, "Let's go in anyway. Maybe we'll be able to shop easier if no one's paying us any attention."

With a smirk, Claire shrugged, "Okay," and she started walking across the street to go inside.

Once they got to the front doors of the department store, Rebecca saw a display of television sets and she said, "You know, I almost have enough money to buy one of those."

"It would be nice to have one. Everyone's always saying they're great."

No one that either girl knew had a television set, but they figured that maybe, if they waited, the prices would go down, and they could get an older model, like with the new vacuum cleaners they had out. But only time would tell.

As they shopped though, Claire saw a zoot suit in the mens section. Most of it was black, but the button up shirt, stripe on the hat, and design on the shoes were all green. "Hey, Chris would like this, green's his favorite color."

"How much is it?"

Claire picked up the price tag and she said, "Wow, it's 50 percent off. I have enough money, but it's not on me."

"Bring him back later, it might still be here."

"Good idea," Claire grinned as she looked up at Rebecca, and then the smile faded.

"What's wrong?" Rebecca asked and looked behind her, seeing Brian Irons standing in the store across the way, and sadly enough, he'd seen them as well. Rebecca looked back at Claire, her face a little concerned, and she said, "Come on, let's just go."

With a brief nod, Claire said, "Yeah, let's."

As they moved back to the front doors of the store, Rebecca asked, "He's still watching you like that?"

Claire only nodded, "Sadly."

"Have you said anything to Chris?"

"No, I don't want him to get mad and lose his job."

Rebecca sighed, and she continued down the road with her friend. The chatted idly as they went. Once they got to the street corner, they looked both ways before they crossed it, and nothing was coming. So they started walking again.

Suddenly, a car came tearing around the corner and slammed on its breaks next to them, causing both girls to yell in surprise.

Brian was sitting behind the wheel. Claire was about to yell at him when she saw who it was, staring at her in particular. Claire couldn't move for a moment, but then she flinched and grabbed Rebecca's hand and moved toward the other side of the street with her. Once they were back on the sidewalk, Claire looked back at the car as Rebecca pulled her along.

Brian had gotten out, "Hey, are you two okay?"

"We're fine," Rebecca called back before Claire could say or do anything.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Rebecca didn't want to hang around with him there, no matter what time of day it was, and she told Claire, "just keep going. He won't follow us."

Claire nodded, a little angry, and a little scared at the same time, and she turned with Rebecca, saying, "I think I might get a taxi cab after all."

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay," Claire smiled at her to reassure her, "I just need to collect my thoughts. Not to mention he can't hit us if we're in a car. Well," she amended, "not that easily."

"Alright," Rebecca replied, and went with her to do as she'd wanted to.

Claire was starting to get a little worried. If Brian kept this up, she would _have_ to tell Chris. But, she knew she could always make him promise her not to confront the man about it. There were other ways to take care of the situation.

Still though, Claire didn't like it. Not at all.


	12. Drowning My Sorrows

Jill leaned on the bar with a dejected look on her pretty face, her palm against her jaw, and her elbow on the counter. "Henry," she said, "give me another one."

"Jill, you've had two already."

"I don't care, I'm not in the mood to be concerned. Just give me another one."

Henry sighed, then he nodded and filled up another mug of cream soda, putting the straw in it and turning to face her. As he set it down, she said, "Thanks," and then she lifted the straw to her lips and started sipping it.

Henry adjusted his white wedge cap that read 'The Soda Shoppe" on the side of it and went back to cleaning his glasses and mugs again. The store served soda's, candy, coffee, and a few small meals like cereal and oatmeal. It wasn't too big, just a bar and a few booths, but it was a nice place to go to, especially if you were a teenager, to sit for a while and talk to some friends. Jill had been there all morning.

Thoughts of Chris were filling her head. Thoughts of seeing him again last night. She'd cried for about an hour when he'd left her standing there in the lobby, and now she was just drowning her sorrows in a mug of cream soda.

"So, what's eatin' ya, Jill?" Henry asked.

"Nothing," she drew out dejectedly.

"Come on, I've known you since you were five, and you've been coming in here since you were thirteen, so tell me what's wrong."

Grumbling, Jill shrugged, "I saw Chugs again last night."

"Chugs? You mean that low life Chris who left you without a word?"

"Yeah, that's the guy."

"Where is he? When I find him, I'm gonna kill him."

"You'll have to beat me to it," Jill muttered and then sipped her drink again.

"He wasn't trying to crawl back to you, was he?"

"No, actually," she told him once she'd swallowed her drink. "He wasn't even there to see me in the first place."

"Really? That bastard, he could have at least said he was sorry."

Jill snorted. Then she shrugged, "He tried to," and she sat back, "can we get off of this subject though please? I'm trying to forget him, not remember him."

"Alright," Henry nodded, "how's work?"

"Same," Jill smiled, glad for the topic change, "busy and hectic. They're going to be opening auditions soon for some new performers to get in there, so they're doing good since they have enough to pay some more of them." That made Jill happy because it meant should wouldn't be losing her job anytime soon. True, sometimes the customers could get annoying, but it paid her a lot of money, and she'd been able to afford her own place because of it, a feat not many women could say that they'd done, or could do.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you audition? I know you have a good singing voice."

"Only when I'm alone, or not in front of a big crowd," Jill smiled. "Besides, the mob that runs the joint, well, let's just say I'd rather stick to serving."

Henry chuckled, and the bells on the door sounded as someone walked in. Nodding his head to the new customer, Henry asked, "What can I getcha?," while Jill went back to her drink.

"Give me a coke, Henry," came a familiar voice.

Jill looked up at the man and she asked, "Barry?"

Looking down at the woman in the pretty blue dress suit, white socks and hush puppies, Barry smiled from behind his beard, "Jill! Hey! Where've you been?"

Jill stood up and she hugged the man, smiling. Sure, she might've known him through Chris, but she still liked him a lot. She replied, "I could ask you the same thing, ya know?"

"Touche'," Barry smiled. "How are you?"

Jill sat back down, and Barry sat as well, taking his coke and paying for it when he got it. Then he gave Jill his attention. "I'm okay I guess," she replied.

"More like jilted," Henry piped up.

"Hush, Henry," Jill told him, "no comments from the peanut gallery."

Henry laughed and went back to his work.

"Is he right?" Barry asked her.

"Maybe. Just had a bad run in last night, that's all."

Barry sighed, "Chris went back to the club, didn't he?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Barry shrugged, "It's a long story. Let's just say I overheard him talking to a girl who was presumed missing last night, and she mentioned the club. I think it made him want to go there and check things out."

"Oh," Jill replied simply, she couldn't get out much more than that. "What did the girl tell him that led him back there?"

"I don't know, I just heard her mentioning it to him. Maybe it was someone she saw there, who knows. But I do know that he wasn't in a very good mood this morning."

"Well, good," Jill muttered. Her violet eyes cast down to the floor when she said that.

"He really did hurt you, didn't he?" Barry asked.

"As much as I hate to admit it," she replied without looking at him, "yeah, he did."

"I'll have to have a talk with that boy," Barry stood up, chuckling softly. Then he reached out and tilted her chin up, saying, "Hey, don't worry about it too much. I'm pretty sure everything will be okay."

Jill forced a smile for him and then she nodded. "You gotta go?"

"Yeah, my girls are wanting to go to the park like we do every Sunday. Maybe I'll see you later sometime."

"Yeah, maybe," Jill smiled at him as he went to the door. "Have fun."

"We will," he smirked and left the shop altogether. Jill slouched a little when he left and then went back to her own drink.

What a terrible day, she thought. Sundays were bad anyway in her opinion. So boring and drab. Nothing ever went on. And what made it worse was that she had all the time in the world to think about who she'd seen last night.

Just when she thought she'd gotten over him, he had to go and show up.

He'd been right, she was his Ingrid Bergman. And he left her just like Bogart had.

At least Bogart had a noble reason though, Jill thought, instead of none at all. And that was what hurt the most, not knowing. Not knowing what she'd done, if anything, to make him just leave her like that. Not knowing why he'd wanted to just disappear.

Chris Redfield could just go to hell.


	13. I'll Be There

It was about five o'clock. Leon had gotten a telephone call, and he hadn't expected it to be so soon. But nevertheless, he put on a clean shirt and a pair of tan pants, a blue tie, and a matching blazer, grabbed his tan fedora, and headed out of his hotel.

Heading down the street, opting to walk most places if he could, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and strode over to the diner on Ema street. There was something about a diner that seemed relative, no matter what diner it was, no matter where in America, you could walk into it, and feel like you'd seen it a hundred times before, and Leon only wondered about that for a moment as he approached the doors and walked in.

Looking down the roes of booths, he spotted exactly who he was looking for, dressed in a deep light red dress suit, her black hair pulled up under the matching hat she wore. There was a black fur around her shoulders, and it looked rather warm. Her hands were sporting black gloves, and she was holding onto her purse on the table while she was staring out the window. He wondered if Ada always wore shades of red. But he liked it nonetheless.

She was definitely a classy dame.

Briefly, Leon remembered what Chris had told him the night before. Ada Wong was bad news. Keeping that in mind, he walked toward the booth she was at and said, "Hey, you called?," to get her attention.

Ada had been staring out the window, and when she heard his voice, she looked up quickly and smiled, removing her sunglasses and setting them on the table. "Hi, Leon," she replied happily, glad he'd come.

Leon removed his hat and set it on the table as he sat down. Ada watched him, and she looked at his hair, had wondered what fashion he'd had it cut in, and now she knew. He was a handsome guy indeed. And he looked every bit the type of guy that he was somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he just did.

"I was a little surprised you'd called me," he told her, then added, "so soon anyway."

"Well," she looked down for a moment, tilting her head, "you left quite an impression honestly."

"I aim to please," Leon joked. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I wanted to see you somewhere neutral, instead of at the club. I don't feel like I can talk much there."

"Oh yeah? Why is that?"

Shaking her head slowly, Ada finally looked back up at him, "I don't know. Maybe it's the people. Maybe it's just not informal enough. You don't really feel like you can get to know a person there, you know what I mean?"

She'd reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette holder, sticking a cigarette in it, and like a gentleman, Leon pulled out his lighter while she was looking for hers, and lit it for her.

Ada smiled, and she leaned her cigarette into the flame, and drew a puff of it. Then she sat back and offered him one. Leon decided to take her up on it.

"So, what is it you want to get to know about?" He asked after he'd taken a drag.

"I guess whatever you want to tell me. I'm just curious about you."

With a smile, Leon shrugged, looking out the window for a moment, "Well, I could probably tell you a lot. It just depends on the subject I guess."

"Alright then," she sat back and got more specific, "your job. What do you do for a living?"

Leon grinned, looking down, "Yeah, you had to ask the tough one, huh?"

"Why so tough?"

"Because I don't really do anything for a living much, not at the moment. My father passed away about two years ago and left me his inheritance. I've been living on that and in between different jobs ever since."

Ada smiled, "Trying to find something you like?"

"Nah, just wanting a little change of scenery from time to time."

"Then you must get around a lot."

"I've been known to stay in one place for a while when I find something there that interests me. And what about you? How long have you been singing?"

"Since I learned how to talk," she chuckled. "My family was dirt poor, and I used to earn money singing different songs on street corners in California for people walking by. It wasn't enough to keep food on the table, but it helped."

Leon smirked at the story. Then he took a drag of the cigarette and flicked it in the ashtray on the table. "And now you're a regular star huh?"

"You could say that. I do get asked for autographs around here sometimes."

"Gets a little hectic doesn't it?"

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down, "It can at times. So, last night you said you were just interested in seeing The 27. What did you think?"

"I think it was worth my time. I got to meet a beautiful woman, and she actually talked to me."

"Well, I could see how a lot of women would want to talk to you. Honestly, Leon, you have something about you that makes me want to trust you."

"Actually, I've heard that before. I don't know why," he smirked, "but I'm glad for it."

"That's another reason I called you. I wanted to talk some more. I haven't had such a good conversation in a long time."

"Well, go ahead and talk. I'm a pretty good listener."

With a smile, Ada pulled the cigarette from the holder, and she stamped it out, then put the holder back in her purse. "Alright. I'll tell you the truth. Sometimes I get very scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Of myself, the people around me in the club. I feel like I can't be myself, or that if I am, I might do something wrong. I don't know if you know this or not, but 27 is owned by a mob boss."

Leon sighed, then he turned in his seat slightly to get more comfortable. With a nod, he told her, "Yeah, I know actually. I've heard of him." He paused for a moment and put out his own cigarette, then asked her, "Does he treat you badly?"

"No," Ada shook her head, "no, not really. I mean, he probably would if I got too questioning of whatever he was doing, but I still don't know about him, you know? I guess maybe I'm just being paranoid."

"Yeah, well, you can't ever be too careful around those mob types. They're bad news."

"You know," Ada told him, "I was under the impression from last night that you might've been one, you know, the way you were dressed."

"Oh yeah?" Leon smiled. They he shrugged slightly, "I like the look, what can I say."

"You do look good in it," she chuckled, but then her expression got a little sad. "I thought a lot about what you told me too, that I could probably make it on my own if I went to Hollywood or something. But I just don't know. I'm kind of afraid to try to leave."

Leon had gotten genuinely curious. He leaned forward, the expression on his face concerned, and he asked, "Why?"

With sigh that seemed to last a while, Ada put her elbow on the table, leaning her cheek into her palm. Her almond eyes stared at the window, and she finally told him, "Because the mob is possessive. If I leave, they might get mad. I do bring in a lot of money for them after all, you know?" By the time she'd said that last line, she'd looked over at Leon to see if he'd made any reaction to her statement.

Leon had sucked in a breath, pursing his lips together as he'd looked down at the table top, nodding, "Yeah, you're right about that. But a name change wouldn't hurt, something like a stage name. Besides, if you're in radio only," he glanced back up at her, "it's not like they'd be able to put a face with the song."

"But they might know my voice." Ada stayed where she was, leaning forward on the table, their faces maybe six inches apart, and she shrugged slightly, "But you could be right."

Leon looked her face over for a long time. He couldn't help it. He didn't care if she was Asian like some white guys would. Not at all. She was too damned beautiful to care. Without thinking about it, Leon said the words, "I wanna tell you how gorgeous you are."

A smile slowly crept across Ada's lips, and she asked him, "Why don't you?"

"Because I'm afraid you've heard it too many times."

Ada continued smiling, and she pulled her hand away from her cheek, then put it on his. Looking from it to his face, she replied, "It's the thought that counts, Leon. Maybe I should tell you I think you're just as handsome."

That sly, good looking grin he'd become known for with her lit up, and he shook his head, "You should be careful, you could torment a guy with that kind of talk."

"Then let me show you I'm being honest."

"Huh?" Leon asked, not sure he knew what she meant.

Leaning over, Ada closed her eyes and she placed her lips against his cheek. The table wasn't too big to keep her from doing that comfortably, and when she pulled her lips away, her face still right beside his, she said into his ear, "I don't want to say too much in public here, someone might relay some kind of rumor back to the club."

Leon had closed his eyes when she kissed his cheek, and couldn't help enjoying it. Then, the icy blue orbs opened again and he listened to her words, watched her sit back away from him.

Something on her face looked hopeful. Leon couldn't put a finger on it, but he felt like she were trying to reach out to him for help.

_She's bad news, Leon_, played in his head suddenly.

Bad news, he thought. He'd had bad news before. And bad news hadn't given him that kind of look.

"Ada," he started, "as hard as this is for me to say, I think it's getting close to time for me to leave. But I'll let you in on a little secret before I do."

She looked down, was quiet for a moment. Then she finally nodded, and asked him, "What's that?"

"I don't particularly like the clubs owner too much. And I didn't come here to meet someone like you either truthfully. But if you ever need something, help with anything, I'll be there for you."

No one had ever told her anything like that before. Ada felt her heart skip a beat. Somehow, she wondered for a moment if she could really go through with this. She couldn't find the words to say anything.

When she stayed quiet, Leon moved to stand up from the booth, and she suddenly grabbed his hand, "Wait."

Looking back at her, she told him, "Come to the club Tuesday night. I'm singing then because one of the girls got sick, so the number had to be canceled. If you come, I'll be there, okay?"

Leon stared at her for just a moment, then he smiled at her and nodded, "Alright. I'll be there."

Ada smiled brightly, then she let go of his hand. She was starting to get used to him saying that, and he'd already proved it by coming to the diner that evening. As he stood up completely, she watched him grabbing his hat and flipping it over onto his head, then tipping it to her. She smirked at him and he turned to walk out of the diner altogether.

Once the doors had shut behind him, Ada sighed and she shook her head slightly.

She hoped she knew what she was doing. But, after all, she'd learned from the best.


	14. Auditions

"You know, normally I would be kind of insulted that Wesker put us up to this, but watching these girls try out isn't all that bad actually."

Billy and Krauser were sitting at a table in the ballroom. The club was nearly empty, a stark contrast to its usual lively nightlife, and Billy had his hands crossed behind his head, leaning back, as he'd said that.

Krauser scoffed at his words. They'd been watching women trying out for about an hour now, and Krauser asked him, "Do you always think with your pecker?"

"Just as much as you do."

Krauser grumbled. "Yeah, the fucker gets me into more trouble than I care to admit."

Billy started laughing and he sat forward again, glancing at him, "Kind of like that time you went out with that hooker you met at the Copacabana?"

"She was hot." Krauser stated simply.

"Yeah, hot and a thief. She stole all your clothes, man! You had to sneak around the hotel naked until you could find some more." Billy was nearly dying laughing at the memory of it.

Krauser didn't look so amused though, "Shut up, Coen," he called him by his last name when he was pissed off about something. "Just, fucking watch the girls like you're good at. It's probably the reason Wesker put us up to it anyway, since we're always arguing over the dancers."

"Yeah, good point," Billy chuckled, then he asked, "so the last one was no good?"

"You tell me."

"Just shut up and give me an opinion."

"No," Krauser told him and rolled his silver eyes.

"Alright then, mark her off." Billy looked back up at the stage and called, "Next!"

The next act would come out and perform, and the two men would judge them based on their looks and their talent, knowing that Wesker would get angry if they approved a girl who was all beauty alone and no money value, so they made sure they weren't too biased. On the list was the names of girls who'd signed up before the auditions had started that day, and a little over half the names had a mark through them. Only a few had a circle around them, perhaps a few notes beside them, such as what song the girl had sung when she'd auditioned.

Another hour passed. They had some good choices, but nothing too concrete. "Wanna take a piss break? This shit's gettin' old," Billy grumbled. It seemed like every act was mediocre, and only a very few had any slight promise.

"There's only two more girls left," Krauser replied, "might as well see 'em first."

"Alright, fine, next!"

A woman walked out onto the stage with a confident step to her gait. Billy stared. Krauser was looking at his cigar, stubbing it out. Billy elbowed him.

"Damn it," Krauser said and looked up. Then he lifted a brow.

The woman definitely passed in the looks department.

Both men just stared for a moment. Finally though, Billy cleared his throat and asked, "What song are you going to sing?"

"Why don't you do right," came the womans slightly throaty voice in answer to their question of song. It sounded fairly sultry.

Billy lifted a brow, he hadn't heard of that one before, that he could remember anyway, and he shrugged, "Alright, take it away."

Krauser looked her name up on the list. Lauren Emerson. He shrugged slightly and watched as the piano player started playing the song, and her voice started filling the room.

As she sang, something seemed nicely confident and strong about her demeanor, like she meant every word of what she was singing, and knew how to work her body to the rhythm as well to get it to be the most meaningful. And how she worked her body made both men stare after her. She had an attitude, and she wasn't afraid to show it off.

She was just as good as Ada.

While the song went on, Billy whistled lowly, and Krauser agreed with the sound he made.

"You know, Billy, we might not have to see that last girl after all."

Billy smirked in agreement, and he wrote something down onto the paper they'd been jotting on.

Half an hour later, the two men were sitting at the bar, conversing with Carlos, the bartender during the weekdays, about the girl they'd approved, and Carlos put some more of the glasses up onto the shelves as he said, "No doubt," to Krauser's comment, "she'll definitely do as good as Ada." Carlos had seen and heard the woman singing as well, and he went on, "You schedule those two on different nights, and you'll have a roof raiser everyday of the week."

"Will we?," came a dignified, deep voice that could only belong to Wesker. "I take it you found someone then."

"Yeah, we did," Billy told Wesker as he walked toward the bar. Wesker had his tie hanging around his collar, not yet tied, and he'd been putting his gloves on. It looked like he was getting ready for something. Billy continued once Wesker stopped near them, "She was next to last, but we went ahead and cut off the last girl because we're certain Lauren'll take the cake."

"Lauren, hmm?"

"Yeah, Lauren Emerson's her name."

"I'll look forward to seeing her perform this Friday."

"Friday? Giving her one of Ada's nights?" Billy asked curiously.

"No, I want to expose the new girl during an already known and watched act. That way she'll get more publicity than usual, and the crowds will already know how good she is. Easier profit."

Krauser nodded at Weskers response, then he grabbed his drink, "That song was pretty good, too."

Billy just chuckled and puffed on his own cigar.

Wesker folded his arms over his chest and first said to Carlos, "Take a break. Go smoke one." Carlos nodded and walked off to take a break, and then Wesker continued, "I have a little business to take care of up state. I won't be back until Thursday or Friday. In the meantime, I have a small task for the two of you."

"What's that, boss?" Krauser asked.

"Those girls you two failed to capture the other day. I want you both to find out where at least one of them lives and make an example of them. They're the reason I got the visit I did last Saturday night, and I'd appreciate it if they're shown that they can't just talk to anyone about our dealings without some kind of consequences. Think you can handle that?"

"No problem," Krauser said, setting his glass back down, "I can think of a few things we could do."

"Good," Wesker replied suavely, "and just remember that Brian Irons is on our payroll, so he'll help to keep you two under wraps, but that doesn't mean you can get sloppy," Wesker added the last line seriously. "Just get it done and don't linger."

"Whatever you say," Billy told him. "This trip you're taking wouldn't have to do with a certain doctor, would it?"

"It's possible. But there's nothing to it that I can't handle alone."

Billy stood up when Wesker told them that, and nodded to let Wesker know he understood him, then he walked off to go attend to other things, and Krauser got Weskers attention, "You know Johnny got his arm broken the other night. He said someone helped Chris out, but he couldn't see who it was. Too dark or some shit."

"Yes, I heard," Wesker replied, sitting down at the bar where Billy had been as he unfolded the cuffs of his sleeves, "any thoughts on who it might've been?" He'd laid his cufflinks out on the table, and picked them up one by one to put in his cuffs.

"Nah, but I know it had to have been someone from the club because Johnny said he looked like he was in a mob."

Wesker lifted a brow. That part in particular, he hadn't heard. "Oh really?," he asked thoughtfully. "Hmm, no one from this mob I would imagine."

"Doubtful."

"Either way, make sure you watch the clubs at night for the next several days. Try to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious."

"With pleasure," Krauser told him in a malicious voice, not too happy about the thought of having one of their own stabbing them in the back like that himself. Then he stood up and said, "Have a good trip. Don't worry, things'll be kept in order like always."

Wesker was straightening his tie out and then tying it as he nodded to Krausers words, then let the man walk off. Turning, he looked into the mirror behind the bar to make sure it was on straight.

Once he was finished tying his tie, he slung his black blazer over his shoulder before he walked to the front doors of the club and left.


	15. Underground

The ride out of town on the Ecliptic Express was usually always an enjoyable one. There was rarely ever any problem, the service was always good, and there was always something to do. It was simply the thought of the place he was going to that ruined it.

Wesker didn't care much for the facility. It wasn't what they did there that he didn't care for, it was the facility itself. It's design, general feel. It made him miss his pent house on the top floor of the 27.

But, he got there in due time, and the facility was as plain as it ever was. On the outside, the building almost looked like it'd been completely abandoned. But, as it was with The 27 Club, it was what was inside that counted.

Walking inside, Wesker went through the lobby, past the receptionist who didn't try to stop him, and toward the stairs. Once in was inside the stairwell, he pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket and used them to unlock the door that read "Janitor" across the front of it, and went inside.

The closet smelled of cleaning products and dirt mixed together. He ignored it. Reaching to the back wall, he pushed some brooms out of the way, then reached up to the top of the wall, and slid his fingers into a small opening that wasn't easily noticed, even if you were looking hard.

He flipped a latch, and the metal wall turned inward, opening, and revealing another set of stairs that led down, below the building, below the ground, into darkness where every good secret was best kept. As he walked down the stairs, the door turned back into the wall and shut behind him.

The stairway was dark save for a few light bulbs strung up here and there along the walls, and when he reached the bottom of the stairs, his nicely tailored shoes meeting the floor, he reached out and unlocked a second door, then walked in and shut it behind him.

In the room beyond, which was clean and well kept, there were cages containing rats, mice, and even a few reptilian creatures, as well as some sophisticated monitoring and computer equipment, and a few men working their way around the lab. All of them were wearing lab coats and they looked as if they couldn't be happier doing the jobs they were doing. They were some of the smartest people in the world.

Wesker just ignored them.

Instead, he walked toward an office door and he opened it. When he did, he saw the man he'd come to see sitting on the other side of a desk with a microscope on it. The man looked up when he heard the door, his blonde hair neatly cut, if not a bit frazzled from lack of attention and overworking a little bit, "I thought you'd be here any minute, Al."

Wesker shut the door and walked on into the room, "Why wouldn't you, Will?"

William Birkin shrugged, and then he stood up, "How's the club?"

"Fine, and the research?"

"Coming along well. It's been a lot easier with the discovery made last year."

"Which one would that be?" Wesker asked.

"That viruses actually mutate, which is why people can get sick with the same thing again and again."

"Sometimes I wonder if you'd rather have married a virus than a woman," Wesker told him blandly.

The comment made Birkin smirk slightly, "Anette's fine, since you ask."

"I wasn't. Just commenting."

Birkin smirked, ignoring it. He knew Wesker didn't like his wife, Anette, thoroughly well. Instead of commenting on it, he asked, "So, what's the point this time? Just checking up on us, or is there something else you came here for?"

"Well, checking up on you isn't a big concern of mine, as long as you're all kept out of the public's view."

Birkin lifted a blonde brow and he asked, "What happened then?"

Wesker took in a deep breath through his nose, then said as he exhaled it, "My men failed to get a new specimen for you, a young female as you'd asked, and apparently the female they were after talked to someone I'm not too interested in seeing much of."

"I thought you have Brian Irons bought out though?"

"Yes, I do, but not all of his forces know about it. Only a select few. It's not a severally large concern though, the detective still knows nothing about the other missing people, but I thought it would be safe to say that you may not get another specimen for quite some time. Not one that fits your bill anyway."

Birkin nodded, "Well, it's a good thing we have some other projects to finish up, otherwise we'd come to a stand still waiting. Why didn't you have them check out the mental asylum? There's usually a few people there that the outside world never knows is missing."

"Because there was a new security guard recently placed there, and he's not in the loop. But I'm pretty sure your wife will turn up a Jane Doe at the hospital soon. I just thought it was important to let you know that I won't be delivering anything to you again personally or via my men any time soon. Too much of a risk was taken with getting a mentally stable female in good shape, so I'm going to cut the loses and keep a low profile for the next few weeks."

"Yes, it's too bad the Nazi Party is out of commission now for more or less, otherwise we wouldn't have to worry about this at all."

Wesker reached up and scratched his eyebrow, then he said, "Careful steps will have to be taken, yes, but the project will get finished soon, and we both won't need to worry with it anymore, simply reap the rewards. So just keep up your work, and all will be at hand."

"I don't plan on abandoning it, if that's what you mean," Birkin replied as he leaned back down and looked into the microscope again, adjusting the knobs.

Watching him concentrating on whatever he was looking at so intently, Wesker simply muttered quietly, "I didn't think you would."


	16. Unforgiven

_Four Months Earlier, September, 1945_

Jill stood on the sidewalk outside the café and she was holding her arms around her waist. It'd gotten fairly cold that night already, even though fall didn't start for another few days, and she was wearing a pale blue overcoat with a sash that tied around her waist, and a white cartwheel hat on her head that had a blue flower on the front. Chris told her that blue was a really nice looking color on her, and she'd worn it to make him happy.

Her shoes, a pair of blue slingback heels that were open toed and had tiny flowers gracing the tops of them, clinked along the sidewalk as she moved forward and back again, a small pace in wait of the man who was supposed to meet her there.

Briefly, she thought about the last time she'd seen him. It was a week ago, and Jill knew that he'd been backed up with work, a missing persons case, and that's why they hadn't seen each other as much as they had been before.

She'd walked home from work that night, and saw him outside her building. Chris was wearing a plain white t-shirt and some grey slacks, and he'd been sitting on her doorstep. In his hand was a daisy that he was twirling around, just waiting for her to get there. He knew she was getting off work at the time he'd come over, and when she saw him, she invited him inside.

Once they were in her apartment, they couldn't keep their hands off of one another. The kisses grew in intensity as they took each others clothing off while moving into the bedroom, Jill going backwards and Chris coming up against her.

Jill pulled him down onto the bed with her, both of them naked, flesh against flesh, and their mouths mingled. He pulled back slightly and kissed down against her chest, brushed the petals of the flower he was still holding against her breast, and then leaned in and gave it attention with his mouth. His other hand put the needle onto the record beside the bed, and soft jazz began to fill the room.

Jill was trying to be patient with him, but her lust was growing, and growing quickly. She arched her back and pressed her hips up, telling him without words that she wanted him. Chris smirked and drew his fingers down over her hips, her thighs, then very slowly up between them. The slow movement made Jill's heart skip a beat, and he found her, began stroking her slowly, hard, purposefully.

With a loud moan, Jill said the words, "Chris, baby, I want you."

He groaned his response. The way she was moving against him was setting his own blood on fire, and he felt her grasping his hard member, squeezing it tightly, before she innocently purred out, "Please?" There was a devilish look in her violet eyes, one he couldn't get enough of, and a pouty expression on her face.

Chris leaned into her and covered her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue inside hungrily before he pulled her hips up so he could thrust something else into her as well. When he did, her muffled cry sounded into his mouth, and she took the flower out of his hand and wrapped her arms around his back, her legs around his hips, and rocked against him as he propped himself up on his arms beneath her and pumped his hips against hers.

Tilting her head back, giving him the perfect access to her throat, her cries grew louder and louder as each thrust grew harder, and his own groans and grunts of pleasure mixed with them perfectly. She felt just like she'd been made for him, and he couldn't get enough of it.

If there was any truth to the statement that there was always someone else in the world made for you, Chris knew it had to be Jill for him.

The bed rocked in protest as their movements got faster and harder, and with one hand, Jill reached up to the metal headboard and gripped it tightly, afraid she was going to scratch him with her nails because of the intense pleasure she was feeling if she didn't. "Oh God," she cried out, "I love you!"

No matter how many times she'd said it, even though she'd only told him that a few weeks ago for the first time, he could never get enough of it. And it drove him crazy. His mouth was kissing up her neck, against her cheek and her ear ravishingly, and it was all Jill could do to keep from going crazy but to let him, turn her head for him and give him whatever he wanted.

She'd missed him over the week he'd been gone, working so hard. She wanted it to last forever, but she didn't want him to stop either.

Can't have your cake and eat it too, she guessed.

They came against each other, both at the same time, sounding their pleasure to each other with loud moans and deep, heavy breathing.

The record stopped playing not long after that, and Chris lifted the needle and put it to the side of the vinyl album, then he put his arm back around the woman laying against him, her head against his chest. He'd taken the flower from her and put it in her hair, and then leaned down and kissed her forehead, and a smirk crept over her lips about it. "Mmm, you smell good, Chugs."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you came here tonight."

"Lonely?"

"For you, yeah."

"I've got a secret."

"What's that?" She whispered as if it was really important that they keep their voices down.

"So am I."

"Lonely for yourself?"

"No," he laughed softly, the rumble in his chest reverberating against her ear, "glad I came here tonight."

She drew her fingers over some of the hair slightly covering his chest, "No regrets?"

"Never."

"I love you," she felt the urge to say to him again.

"I want to marry you," he told her without warning.

Jill lifted her head up, her brown hair spilling over one side of it like a curtain as she looked at him, "You do?"

"Mmm hmm," he drew out solemnly, "but I'll wait and ask properly, with a ring and everything. So don't answer me yet. I'm not asking. Just think about it."

Jill felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she tried to wipe it away before it fell onto his chest, but too late. He looked down and then reached up and put his hand on her cheek, "I hope you're not crying because you're sad."

"No, not at all," she told him simply. Then she smiled at him and laid her head back where it was, listening to the softly drumming rhythm of his heart beating, and she added, "You just make me very happy."

All of that had been a week ago, and still slammed with work, both of them this time really, Jill hadn't heard from him but twice. Both times were over the phone, and the second time was asking her to go to the café on Ema street that Friday night at eight. Since Jill was off that night, she told him she would, and now she was waiting for him to show up.

It was 10:15. Jill's violet eyes were a little misty. He'd stood her up. But they weren't misty because of that, she figured there was probably a number of reasons he could or would have done that, that he couldn't help. No, they were misty because she'd been looking forward to seeing him again, and now he wasn't there.

So she finally left the café and only hoped it wasn't because he didn't want to see her anymore.

Another week passed, no word. She called him. No answer. She was starting to get worried.

Finally, a few days later, Jill decided to catch a taxi cab one night after work and go to his apartment building. He wasn't there. No one was there. The entire apartment was empty.

Jill was so shattered by the discovery that she'd cried almost the whole way home. She called his work place the next day and asked if he was still in town. As it turned out, he was in fact,still in town, and they asked if she'd like to talk to him.

She told them no, and hung up on them. She was so angry that she had no desire at all to talk to him.

But she did have to fight it. She must have reached for her phone a million times and tried to call him up again, but she could never do it. She was just too angry.

If the man could brush her off so easily, she could brush him off the same way. Her anger turned into bitterness, and she started to hate him.

But only because she still loved him.

And she vowed to herself that she'd never forgive him.


	17. Someone to Watch Over Me

Tuesday night came and Leon finished dressing and put on his cologne before he left the hotel and caught a taxi to the club. He was interesting in seeing what would happen that night after his last meeting with Ada.

The club wasn't entirely too packed, and Leon walked in, heading straight to the bar without hesitation. He was ready to take a seat and let things begin.

Joey, as Leon had learned his name, wasn't working that night. Instead, there was a Latin guy behind the counter who asked Leon when he sat down, "Can I get you a drink, Amigo?"

"Yeah," Leon replied, "a scotch on the rocks, would ya?" Leon decided he'd have a drink, but he wasn't going to get plastered. He wanted his head about him so he could keep himself on his toes. So he'd drink it slowly, and not down it all in one gulp.

He glanced around the room and noticed that the VIP booth was rather empty except for a few guys who were maybe on the low line of Weskers mob, and one of them had his arm in a sling. Leon smirked and sipped his drink over that.

"Leon," came a familiar voice, "hey, I didn't think I'd see you again so soon."

Leon turned around and smiled at Jill, "Hi, you either actually. You work every night?"

"Nah, but I do work a lot," she replied.

"So, how've you been?"

Going behind the bar, Jill set her tray down and leaned over to reach into the shelves beneath the bar counter and grab some more items to put on it for the customers like cigarettes and such. Then she stood up with them in hand and said, "Um, okay."

"You're lying."

Jill lifted a brow at him aa she stacked the things on her serving tray, "So what if I am?"

Holding his arms up, Leon shook his head, "Nothing, I can just tell."

"Is it that obvious?" She frowned.

"Well, if you're asking whether or not you look bad, the answer is no, you look like a classy dame. I can just tell by how you answered."

Jill finally smiled at him. Then she replied, "You're a smooth talker. Keep that up and I might forget to charge you for something."

With a sly grin, Leon reached into his pocket and skillfully flipped two quarters out of his hand and onto her tray. "The night's still young, you know."

It was a tip, and a nice one at that. Jill grinned and she told him, "Thanks for the compliments alone, I really needed 'em."

"You're welcome," he chuckled before someone else caught his attention. It was Ada. As she walked toward him, she stopped by his stool and Jill went back to working behind the counter for the moment.

"I'm glad you showed up, I'd wondered if you would or not," Ada admitted to him.

"Hey, I said I'd be here, and here I am."

Smiling, Ada looked over at Carlos, and she told him, "Drinks for this guy are on the house, okay?"

"Sure thing, senorita," Carlos replied, giving Jill a glance that was returned when Ada wasn't looking.

"I'll see you after the show, alright?" Ada told Leon.

"Okay," Leon replied, and watched her walking off to go backstage.

"On the house, huh?" Jill piped up. "Ada usually never buys another guy drinks, especially not when Wesker's not around."

Leon narrowed his brows and looked back at Jill, "Is that a bad thing?"

"I dunno, it might be," she shrugged. "Ada's hard to read. She doesn't socialize with anyone outside of the VIP booth much, so you never know."

Leon nodded and took Jills words to heart, then he glanced back out at the currently empty stage and he said, "I'll remember that."

The front doors of the club opened, and wearing a black suit that looked fairly formal, including a green tie and a matching fedora, Chris strolled into the club and leaned up against the walls in the foyer near the door as he scanned the area with his blue eyes. He didn't want her to see him. Not right now. Nor did he want many other people to.

He couldn't resist it. Seeing Jill again that last Saturday night was too much for him, and then, what Barry had said to him, didn't make it any better. Not to mention, he had a feeling about that place somehow, and he wanted to know if his feeling was right. Besides, he'd heard Wesker was out of town, and that was more than good news in his book.

Not to mention it gave him the perfect opportunity to check the club out without much trouble from Wesker's guys. If Wesker wasn't there to say so, they wouldn't bother him too much.

The music started playing from the pits near the stage. The lights dimmed. It was mostly the piano playing, with a little violin accompaniment, making for a soft, pretty, slow tune that filled the air. Chris knew the song already.

People clapped when the curtains drew open and revealed Ada standing on stage by the cardiod microphone, alone and just simply pretty, with nothing but her own voice to accompany her.

"There's a saying old, says that love is blind," she paused, "still we're often told, seek and ye shall find. So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind," the last word was drawn out with expert skill, beautifully hit.

"Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet, he's the big affair I cannot forget. Only man I ever think of with regret." From there, the music changed just a tad bit.

Across town, in Chris's apartment, Claire walked toward her mirror, "I'd like to add his initials to my monogram." She picked up a picture of herself, Chris, Rebecca, and namely Steve, and stared at for a moment. "Tell me, where is the shepherd for this...lost...lamb."

Leon watched Ada with full attention, listening to the words she was singing, and for some reason, he couldn't help but feel as if they meant something in particular. Somethnig pertaining to him.

Jill sighed as the song went on and wished it wasn't playing, so she busied herself with cleaning things up as the crowd usually didn't order anything during these kinds of performances. But she couldn't deny that somewhere inside her she could relate to the lyrics being sung and wish things had gone a bit differently.

Chris thought of the irony of the song compared to the woman he currently had his eyes on. He'd hoped Jill wasn't there tonight, yet then again, he'd hoped she was. Still though, when he saw her, he couldn't help but think that she was a very good sight for sore eyes.

"There's a somebody I'm longing to see," Ada continued, "I hope that he, turns out to be...Someone who'll watch," she drew out, "over me."

"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know I could, always be good," Ada stopped for a slight moment as if to let the song sink in, looking directly at Leon for a moment before she continued, "Someone who'll watch, over me."

Leon sighed a deep breath and knew, when she'd looked at him, that he'd been right. She'd meant the song for him after all. She was telling him something. She wanted to get away, she just couldn't, didn't know how. From there, the tune picked up slightly, a drum beat added to it.

Claire walked toward her bed and she sat down, running her fingers along the edge of the picture she held, "Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart, he carries the key."

"Won't you tell him please to put on some speed," Ada continued, "follow my lead, oh how I need..." Closing her eyes, she sang the final line, drawing out the last note and raising it an octave, "Someone who'll watch over me."

The audience started clapping as the lights turned back down low, and the music stopped for a few minutes, letting the mood draw out. Jill was thankful for the ending, probably unlike anyone else in the room, and she grabbed her tray and made her way out into the audience to serve them like usual.

Chris, on the other hand, had noticed something kind of interesting, and he stayed where he was, despite the fact that Jill was there. He needed to know for sure.

As the night drew on, and more numbers were done, though they were no where as vivid, bright, or colorful as they had been on Saturday night, Leon waited, and finally, he got what he'd been waiting for.

"Leon," Ada said as she came back toward the bar.

He turned around and looked at her, then he said, "Hey. Nice performance."

"Yeah, um," she hesitated, "about that, could you come with me?"

"Alright," Leon replied, standing up and following her.

Leading him toward the backstage area, Ada opened the door and let him inside, then she started walking down the hallway with him and into the dressing room. No one was back there.

Hesitating for a moment as if he expected someone to be, Leon finally walked inside and let Ada shut the door behind him. Briefly, he glanced at all the costumes around, and then turned and looked at her, "So, what am I doing back here, Ada?"

Ada walked over to the dresser and she leaned on the table. She didn't say anything at first, but finally turned her face toward him and she asked, "I hope you got my message."

"I figured you might've been trying to tell me something. But what parts you meant, and what parts you didn't, I don't know for sure."

Ada nodded in understanding, and she mused, "I guess maybe singing a song was a bit dramatic, but it's how I work best. All I meant really was that I'd given a lot of thought to what you said, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind being out of here, but I'm just really scared to leave. And I trust you Leon, for some reason."

"So you're asking me for help?"

Ada walked toward him and she took his hand, then glanced up at him, "I know it seems forward, and I know it's a lot to ask, but I was wondering if I could maybe tag along with you whenever you leave. Not permanently, but just long enough that I can get somewhere to turn a corner in my life, and maybe get myself into a more pleasant position."

With a sigh, Leon looked down at his hand in hers, then he gently lifted it up and folded his fingers around her own, putting his other hand on top of it. "I can't say I wouldn't be thrilled to have you tagging along with me, Ada. But it'll be a short while before I leave, I still have something I need to do."

"I understand," Ada replied, standing closer to him, "who knows though, maybe you can become my manager for a while," she smirked, "you did say you like a change of scenery."

Leon smiled at her, chuckling softly, "I did say that."

Ada was also smiling, and she glanced over his shoulder for a moment, then back up at his face and she asked, "Leon, would you mind if I kiss you?"

"I thought it was the man's job to ask that."

"I'm just afraid you won't."

"I want to," he admitted, "pretty bad."

Ada's eyes caught his when he said that, and she suddenly leaned up, pressing her lips into his, felt his arms moving around her back.

He returned the kiss, his lips parting and tongue mingling with hers slowly, gently. His fingers threaded through her hair while the kiss lasted, and finally, he parted his mouth from hers, and took a deep breath.

Ada laid her head on his shoulder, and she finally broke the silence and asked quietly, "Leon?"

He was contemplating something slightly, but he replied, "Yeah?"

"What is it that you have to finish?"

With a soft sigh, he told her, "I have a score to settle."

"Oh? How long will it take?"

"I don't know. It just depends on how quickly I can get in and out."

"Who's it with?"

Leon hesitated for a moment. Then he told her, "Your boss actually."

Ada pulled her head back slowly and looked up at him, "Wesker?"

"Yeah, Wesker," the name came out on a low breath, indicating that Leon really hated the guy.

"Then it might be a while?"

"It's possible."

"Are you going to try and kill him?"

"I don't know," Leon told her vaguely. In all honesty, he just didn't want to involve her too much.

Ada nodded slowly, then she smiled a little, "It's okay," she said as if she understood why he didn't want to tell her. Then she glanced behind him for a moment, and she took a step back slowly, "I can wait."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, "I might be able to help too."

"No," Leon shook his head, "I don't want you to get into trouble."

Once again, Ada glanced back behind him. Leon had noticed the glance this time, and heard her saying, "I won't."

He looked behind him. As soon as he did, he saw Krauser and was met with the big mans fist to his head, knocking him to the floor with ease.

Leon was only conscious for a few brief moments after that, in which he saw Ada standing there, unflinching, even when Krauser hit him a second time.

He should have known better than to trust a woman.

Everything went black. Whatever happened after that, Leon had no idea.


	18. Bad Luck

It was around eleven o'clock when Chris' car pulled up outside the home. It'd burned to the ground, and he sighed softly.

This was Ashley's house.

Apparently, Chris had struck a nerve with Wesker somehow. But what's more, it would also seem that Ashley was no random target. Or Wesker was just sending out a message.

Chris asked one of the officers working there if anyone elses home had burned down that night, or if there had been any other deaths reported yet. When he got a no, he told them about the conversation he'd had with the young girl who lived here, and that the other girl she'd mentioned might be in danger, so they should get some units out to patrol the city for anything suspicious.

Light snow had started falling, and Chris lit a cigarette and wondered to himself as he inhaled the smoke if his luck that night was just nonexistent. He glanced at his cigarette pack and the name. Lucky Strikes. Maybe they'd help him out some.

But he wasn't totally unlucky. He'd managed to do one good deed about two hours ago, when he'd first left the club.

"We've got two dead bodies total. Someone call the coroner," Chris heard on of the fireman calling. He sighed. Anger was building in him. Somehow, he felt as if this were his fault. But he couldn't blame himself like that, he thought, no one could have known what would happen, or have stopped it for that matter.

Glancing around, he saw the mother of the family nearby, sitting on the edge of a car with a blanket around her as the snows fell. She'd been the first one he'd talked to when he'd arrived. She didn't know what happened, the house just caught fire, and how or why she was unsure. So Chris would wait. Whatever the firemen might turn up could give him a clue as to how the fire was set.

For now though, he headed to the houses next door and started asking the neighbors questions of if they'd seen anything. The only person who saw anything said he'd heard a car door slamming, followed by his dogs barking from the backyard. When he got up out of bed to look, he saw some people getting into a car and driving off. The man was elderly, and he hadn't been wearing his glasses, plus it had been nighttime, so he couldn't see anyone's faces either, but he said he distinctly remembered hearing a car driving off just before the house caught on fire.

That helped, Chris thought, but somehow, he didn't know how wise it would be to take any statements from the guy considering this was a mob related issue. If the old man got killed too, he wouldn't have anymore eyewitnesses.

Walking back to his car, Chris heard his name being called, and he turned around, "Chief Irons? What are you doing out here?"

"Came to check on the progress. Find out anything yet?" Brian's strolled over toward Chris' car casually and he leaned against it, rubbing his moustache a few times and waiting for Chris to tell him what he knew.

Chris shrugged, "It's mob related, I'm almost certain. The girl that lived there came to me a few nights ago after she was assumed to be missing, and told me that she'd been chased by some guys from The 27 Club, so I went to go check it out."

"Why didn't you tell me about all of this? I could have gotten someone to take care of it."

Chris didn't want to discuss this with Brian much, he didn't get along with the guy too well, and to make things worse, something just bugged Chris about him, always had. "You weren't there," he replied simply, "I was just looking for a lead."

"Well, we're on shaky ground, Chris," Brian told him, "the mob isn't easy to deal with. You might want to back off of it completely for now, and let someone else handle it."

Chris glared at Brian for a moment, but he didn't become angry with him, "Chief–"

"No," Brian cut him off, "don't worry about it for now. Go home. You look like hell anyway, have you been in the mud?"

Chris looked at his clothing, then he rolled his eyes, thinking about the incident he'd had earlier when he'd left the nightclub. "A car splashed me," he lied.

"Just go home. Besides, your sister might need the protection with things like this going on." He spoke casually, and then asked, "How is she anyway."

Chris lifted a brow at his question, then he replied, "She's well." He really didn't want to talk about his sister to this man, or any other woman he knew for that matter, and so he decided to take him up on his offer, "I'll go home, but I'm not backing off the case."

"I've already assigned it to someone else."

"What?" Chris sounded pissed off now.

"Yeah, Mulligan, he'll handle it."

"Mulligan? But he's," Chris stopped, then he threw his cigarette down and cussed, "shit," before he opened the door to his car and got inside of it.

Brian stood to the side and let Chris drive away before he looked back at the remains of the home nearby and walked toward the other officers around.

As Chris drove, he punched the dashboard suddenly in a fit of anger, then he sighed loudly, then flipped the radio on. Music began to play, and coincidentally, he knew the song, so he started singing it as he drove, trying to calm his nerves. The snows got heavier, and the windshield wipers constantly pushed it out of the way.

His car turned down the road, and his mood started lightening slowly. What he wouldn't give right now to go home and have Jill in his room waiting for him. He could imagine so many things he'd like to do to her right now, but most of all, he'd tell her how much he loved her, and prove it as many times as she wanted him to.

At that thought, Chris grumbled again, his mood returning to its previous low state, and he shut the radio off in a huff.

Pulling down the road where he lived, he parked the car on the side of the street in front of the building he lived in, and looked out at the doorsteps.

"It can't be," he muttered.

Jill was sitting on the steps, staring down at the cement, snow collecting in her hair. This was the last thing he needed, Chris thought to himself, but he shut the car off anyway, and then pushed the door open.

No, his night wasn't turning out well at all.


	19. Explanation

Walking around the side of his car, and to the sidewalk, Chris headed toward the steps, and Jill looked up finally. When she saw him coming, she stood up and waited for him to reach her.

"What are you doing here, Jill? How did you find me?"

Jill could see that something wasn't going well with him, and she narrowed her brows. Maybe she hadn't come at the best time. But, she thought, he also deserved it. "I did a little of my own detective work, Chris," she told him stiffly.

"Why?" Chris sighed out the word as he walked toward the steps leading up to the door and leaned on the railing.

Jill watched him, her hands shoved into her coat pockets, and she opened her mouth to speak, "I had to. It was going to drive me crazy, not knowing."

"Not knowing where I lived?" Chris sounded confused.

"No," she shook her head, "not knowing why. I had to come and ask you why."

She didn't look as angry as he'd thought she would. The honest truth was that she looked crushed, broken.

His mood got even more black if that was possible. All for the simple reason that he knew it was his fault.

When he didn't say anything, she went on, nearly crying, "I just wanted to know if it was anything I did that made you leave."

She was bravely holding the tears back, one of the things he loved about the woman. She was always so brave, so strong. "Jill," he said the name gently, meaningfully, "no, it wasn't you at all."

"Then why?" She tried to keep her voice down, but it came out louder than she'd intended it to. "Please tell me. I can't stand not knowing anymore. You owe me at least that much."

"Yes, you're right," Chris agreed, "I do owe you that."

"Well?" She asked when he didn't go on, watching the snow landing on the rim of his fedora as he stood there.

Chris's lips part with a deep breath, and he looked up at the building. Then he glanced back at her, knowing his sister would be fine for now, and he said, "Walk with me, I'll tell you everything."

It was a temporary peace offering, Jill knew, and she took him up on it. As they started moving down the side walk through the freshly falling snow, Chris started, "I left because of where we both were in our lives. Because of what happened after I saw you last. I couldn't put you in danger."

"Danger? From what?" She asked, totally confused.

"From the mob," he explained, speaking softly. "Do you remember Forest?"

"Your partner, yes. Why? Did the mob kill him?"

Jill knew he'd died, but it'd been a random car accident, or so she thought. Chris nodded, "Yes, I know they killed him, but the evidence that he'd been poisoned before he'd left the nightclub was lost somehow. I only saw it once, but I remember it clearly."

"Why would they do that?" She asked him, genuinely curious.

"Because he got too close to them. So Wesker put a bounty on his head so to speak. I couldn't go back to the nightclub without endangering myself and my work, not to mention to see you at all, because I knew if anyone found out how much I love you, they'd use you against me."

He hadn't said _loved_; he'd said _love_. But with everything else he'd told her added into it, Jill felt like she couldn't breathe. He went on before she could comment as well, "So I moved without a word that next week, told Claire I'd cheated on you, and that you'd dumped me so she would understand why you weren't around anymore, and I stayed away from the club. When I came back last Saturday night, I was just looking for a lead, and hoping you weren't there."

Tears rolled down Jill's cheeks. She felt like she couldn't speak, but somehow she heard herself asking, "You didn't want to leave?"

"Jesus Christ, no," he muttered, looking down as he walked, brows narrowed. With a deep breath, he told her, "You _are_ my Valentine, I don't care how much you hate the nickname."

She stopped, causing him to walk forward a bit, and he turned around to look back at her. "You could have called and told me," she said finally, wiping her eyes. The flair was back on her face again, and Chris was somehow thankful for it. He couldn't stand seeing her broken heart knowing that he'd done it.

"No, Jill, I couldn't. I wanted you in the dark. I didn't want them to be able to use you to find me more easily. If anything happened to you because of me, I'd wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"You bastard," Jill pointed at him, "you unimaginable bastard! All this time I thought that you hated me, and I hated you back, I wanted you to hurt, and you just," she couldn't get it out. Tears continued to stain her cheeks, and Chris felt the worst urge to grab her and hold her.

In a moment of disdain for the consequences, he gave in to that urge, and he grabbed her. She smacked his arm, would have slapped him if she'd had the room to, but she came against him anyway and she buried her face in his chest, inhaling his scent again, his aftershave.

Chris took a deep breath and let her get her anger and frustrations out, but no matter what he did, he couldn't loosen his grip on her. "Jill," he whispered, leaning down against her ear, "I can't tell you how sorry I am for all of this. I really can't. I still love you."

Slowly, Jill tilted her head up, and she looked at him. Then, she whispered, "I'd promised myself I'd never forgive you."

"You have every right to."

"Damn it," she grumbled, her violet eyes still misty, "stop being so agreeable with me! It's making me like you."

"Sorry," Chris apologized, "I just know that I don't want you to hurt anymore. If agreeing with you is the only way to do that, then I will."

"You're getting mushy on me."

"Can't help it," he finally smiled, "you're just too pretty, doll."

For the first time in a long while, the hurt started easing up, and Jill felt more at peace inside of herself than she had in months.

"I never told you the truth you know."

"When?" She asked.

"When I said you're my Ingrid Bergman."

"Oh? What truth?"

"That you're her, only, the way it should have been. I guess I messed that up though, huh?"

Jill frowned, pushed on him slightly, "Stop saying that."

"Jill?"

She took a deep breath.

"Jill."

"What?"

"I love you."

"Chris," she sighed softly, "I don't know what to say now."

"Don't say anything."

"I don't want you to leave me again," she whispered.

Gently rubbing her back with his hands, he told her, "Don't talk."

"But you're not coming back are you?"

Jill felt her nerves hanging in the moment. Whatever he said next would determine what may or may not happen between them, and when he was silent, she looked up at his face.

He'd been dreading that question. He knew she was going to ask it sooner or later, and being stuck like he was, with her so close, he knew he was that much closer to telling her what he wanted to, instead of what he needed to.

She could see it on his face as well. Her breath exhaled loudly. Her eyes never left his.

She understood. Completely.


	20. Staying Put

_Staying Put_

The room was dark. He felt like he couldn't get his eyes open. But he could hear someone singing a soft tune, one that sounded all too familiar.

His eyes closed again, and darkness consumed him once more for several more hours. It was the middle of the night when he next woke up. Remembering the tune he'd heard earlier, and having awoken because he'd sensed someone moving around him, he groaned softly, wondering where he was, why his left arm and leg was hurting so much.

Water could be heard, dripping down into a pool, but he had no idea what was making the sounds. Then he felt a warm wash clothe being pressed against his head, and he reached up, taking the dainty wrist in his fingers with his left hand. It had to be a woman. And the tune she'd been singing before made him think it was Ada.

"Where am I?" He asked, his voice scratchy.

Claire gasped when Leon suddenly took her hand, and she said, "You're safe, in Chris Redfields apartment."

Chris Redfield? Leon thought to himself for a moment. The last thing he remembered was getting knocked out at the club. How had he gotten here? Plus he didn't know who the girl was, but he asked, "Are you his sister?"

Claire reached over, pulling her wrist from his hand gently, and she turned on the table lamp, pulling the chain down and letting go of it. Leon grimaced slightly, his eyes adjusting to the light, and she replied, "Yeah, my name's Claire. Chris brought you here, and told me to tell you that you're a lucky bastard, and from how you look, I'd have to agree with him."

"Why? Do I look bad?"

"You look like a man who's just been fished out of a river, and considering that you were, it's fitting," Claire told him blandly.

"Fished out of a river, what?"

With a sigh, Claire sat down on the bedside, just next to him, and Leon could finally see enough of her to notice that she didn't look a lot like her brother. But his head, arm, and leg hurt too much to concentrate on it at the moment, so he just closed his eyes and let her explain.

"Chris told me what happened. He said he was at the nightclub, and saw you going backstage with Ada Wong. He said he noticed right after you did that two of Wesker's thugs also went back there."

Leon grumbled softly, but he let her continue. "He got the feeling that something bad was going to happen, so he went around to the back of the bar, and saw them leaving not too long later, hauling something to their car, and he knew from the looks of it in the dark that it was you. So he followed, all the way to the Circular River Bridge, and watched them dump the bag off of the side, into the water.

He got out of his car and ran down the hillside to intercept you before you could wash away and drown, and he pulled you through the mud back to the roadside where he'd parked his car. He said you got tangled up on some jagged rocks, and they cut your arm and leg, but he didn't have a choice if he wanted to get you out because the water was freezing." Claire sighed, "He knew better than to try and arrest them right there. It was too dangerous."

Leon didn't make any outward responses to what she was telling him. But inside, he was angry, and disappointed. He knew he'd always had a soft spot for women, but he just couldn't understand how he could have misread Ada Wong so completely. She must have been very good at her trade.

He should have listed to Chris absolutely.

Claire could tell he wasn't happy with what she'd said to him, but she couldn't take it back or make it untrue. Instead, she just asked, "I'm guessing, but Ada duped you, didn't she?"

Leon groaned slightly, saying, "Yeah."

"I'm sorry about that. Did you know her from before?"

"No. She said she needed my help, so I tried to give it to her."

"Figures," Claire told him as she pulled the wet clothe from his head to get it warm again in the bowl of water she had, and then placed it back on his forehead. "It seems like all the good deeds in the world are repaid with bad things. Hold still," she added when he kept moving his head.

Leon stayed still and grumbled. He wasn't used to being waited on. "Give me another few hours, I'll be fine. What time is it?"

"Four o'clock in the morning."

"You should go get some rest then."

"I did. I just woke up about ten minutes ago and came to check on you."

Leon would have rolled his eyes, but they weren't open anyway so he didn't bother. But that wasn't nearly as important as what he felt next.

The covers were lifted off of his leg, and he knew he was stark naked under the sheets. Quickly, he reached down to push the covers back over himself, and immediately regretted it because of the pain he felt from the deep scratches in his arm. Claire jumped because he'd startled her, and then she put her hands on her hips, "Oh, for goodness sakes, you're worse than Chris is when he's hurt!"

Leon groaned slightly about his arm, and he told her, "Just take me to a hospital. Don't get me wrong, doll, I'm appreciative, but if a woman's gonna be checking out a wound where this one is, a woman that I don't know, then I'd rather her be a nurse. So just take me to a hospital."

Claire rolled her eyes. What a stubborn guy. "And let the mob know you're still alive? Sorry, pal, but you're just going to have to be stuck here with me until you get better. Besides, it's not as if you're different from any other man, I'm just checking your leg out."

Damn, she was argumentative, Leon thought. So he finally sat up on his own to prove her wrong, to prove that he wasn't going to have to stay there, and he ignored the dizziness he felt over it.

Claire grabbed his shoulders and she pushed him back down easily in his weakened state, "Oh no you don't."

She let go of him, and he tried again. So she growled and stepped up onto the bed, then parted her legs over his lower stomach and sat down, straddling him. Her arms crossed over her chest defiantly, and she told him, "You're _not_ going anywhere, so just lay down."

Leon was really surprised. She was as stubborn and fiery as a mule on hot coals. But he was also surprised at how she was getting him to stay put. Looking up, his eyes having adjusted fully to the light now, he could see she had red hair which was curled around her face, and a fair complexion. Not only that, but her eyes were big and sea blue, a darker shade than his own.

But considering the woman he'd met just before her, he wasn't going to linger on her looks right now, no matter how damned gorgeous they were. He'd had enough for the moment. The next thing he knew, she'd be throwing him in the river as well.

"Get off of me, woman," he told her, a strength sounding in his voice that he couldn't muster physically.

"Oh, I hear the dogs whining," Claire spat at him, basically saying he was a baby because of his grumpy nature currently.

Leon tried to get up again and Claire reached for his shoulders and pushed him back down against the mattress, "If I have to tie you down, I will," she warned him.

Somehow, Leon thought that sounded kinky, and he couldn't help his smile over it, opening his eyes and looking up at her, "But we just met."

Claire couldn't hold the serious expression she'd had on her face, and she suddenly started laughing along with him, but she continued to hold his shoulders down anyway. Once their laughter had subsided some, she told him, "Seriously, Leon, just stay still. It took me a while to get you to stop bleeding, and I don't want you to re-injure yourself and start all over again."

"Alright," Leon finally agreed, "alright, I'll stay right here for now."

"Good. If Chris came in and caught me like that, we'd both be in trouble." She told him that as she got off of him, then put the wash clothe back into the bowl and started cleaning up the slight mess she had on the table there, her back facing him.

Leon found himself outlining her curves beneath the satin, maroon colored robe she wore with the lacy edgings, and then he grimaced at himself and turned his head.

He just couldn't win for losing.

"Chris won't be back until morning. He said he had something he wanted to do, and he also said that until then, I'm not to answer the door for anyone, so if you hear someone else, just know that there's some trouble around."

Leon narrowed his brows, "He sounds like he's overprotective."

"Not really, with the missing people and the fire that just happened. He said the fire was mob related, so there's no telling what might happen tonight."

Leon guessed that was a good enough excuse, and he asked her finally, "What about your husband." He only prayed she was married so he could get his mind off of her feminine features.

"I'm not married," she told him, dashing his hopes, "and I'm the only one here, so if you need something, then you'll have to ask me."

Picking up the bowl, Claire started walking to the door, and Leon watched her quietly, then he shut his eyes. He was thankful she was leaving for the moment. But he heard her stop and then say something before she left, "Oh, and Chris also told you that if your offer still stands, he'll take you up on it. He said you'd know what he was talking about."

Leon sighed, then he nodded slowly, "Yeah, I know what he means. Thanks, Claire."

Claire just nodded her head even though he couldn't see it, and she went out of the door and into the hallway.

Heading to the kitchen, she set the bowl down in the sink, and then leaned on it. Her hand went to her face and a blush crossed her cheeks as she thought of what she'd just done to Leon. He'd been naked and hurt, and she'd been all over him.

Sometimes she could tell why it was important to be more of a lady. So you didn't end up embarrassing yourself like she just had. The man would probably tell Chris everything she'd just done, and then she'd be in for it.

Maybe she could say Leon had been hallucinating. But she'd still know the truth, and so would he. Deciding against that, she figured that if Leon told Chris anything, she'd just tell Chris it was really her only option.

"Stupid," she grumbled at herself, "God, what were you thinking?"


	21. Reconciliation

_Reconciliation_

Jill would wake up, then go back to sleep, and wake up again, all night long. Sometimes she'd initiate it, and sometimes she'd wake up to his own initiation.

But every time she woke up, she thought she was in heaven.

Chris wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him, raining a constant stream of kisses against her throat and down her chest, grabbing the backs of her thighs and pulling her up so he could have free reign of her chest. Jill was still half asleep because she'd been dead to the world when he'd grabbed her just then, it would mark the fourth time that night, and it was getting close to 5:30 in the morning now.

All she could feel was him, and she thought she'd been dreaming again. In her half asleep state, she said, "Don't leave me again, Chris."

He knew she wasn't fully awake, but her words made him that much more urgent to prove that he didn't plan on doing any such thing again. Jill woke up fully when she felt his arousal pressing up between her legs, penetrating her, and she couldn't deny her instincts as she lifted her hips over him slowly and moaned his name loudly.

He'd promised her a hundred times it seemed that he'd never leave again, and somehow she'd known for certain that every time had been the truth. As she felt him inside of her, beneath her, his arms around her, her's around his shoulders, she knew he wouldn't.

She rode her hips against him harder.

"Chris," Jill moaned out lowly.

"Mmm, Valentine."

"Don't..."

"My Valentine."

"...start."

"I love you."

"God," she gasped.

"Yeah."

"Oh god!"

"Harder, baby."

"I love you, Chris!"

Chris groaned, his eyes shutting in the pleasure he felt, unable to stop himself from lifting his hips against hers, rocking himself into her. She still felt so perfect. The bed started rocking, and he just couldn't get enough of it.

He reached up and grabbed her hips though, made her stop, and Jill looked down at him, "What's wrong?"

"Not a damned thing."

"Then let go," she breathed heavily.

"Not yet."

"Not yet?"

"No, I want it to last."

Jill groaned when he said that, and she tried to move her hips anyway. Chris clutched them tighter, groaning loudly.

"Let go," she told him again.

"You're perfect, Jill."

"Chris, let go."

"So damned perfect."

Jill jerked against him, and he finally let go, but he did lean up so he could have more a little more control, and as he covered her mouth with his own, he helped her movements along, thrust against her like he'd never have the chance to again.

Her moans sounded loudly from her throat. It felt so good she really did think she was going to cry. She tensed up against him as the pleasure built, and finally she wrenched her mouth away from his, burying her face in his throat.

Chris grunted, trying to hold off as long as he could just so he could feel her coming against him, so he could hear her cries of pleasure, and know for sure that he'd put them there. But it was proving difficult.

Jill clutched him tightly, and her cries grew, sounding his name again and again, and Chris allowed himself to let go and groaned her own name in return, giving one final, hard thrust and pouring himself inside of her, telling her how much he loved her.

His body rest back against the headboard and the wall, and he breathed heavily as he clutched her body tightly against him. Jill pulled her face from his throat and she leaned up to kiss him hard, lovingly. Pulling her hands from the headboard she'd been clutching, she accidentally knocked his trench coat from where it was hanging on the bedpost, and she heard a clink when it fell to the floor, followed by what sounded like a coin rolling to a stop.

Chris tensed beneath her, and she pulled her lips from his gently, knowing it was something important that had fallen out of his coat when he'd done that. "What is it, Chugs?," she asked in a seductive voice, still kissing his throat.

He sat forward slowly, stealing another kiss before he glanced down at the floor. It was right there and he reached to get it, then pulled his hand back up and sighed, looking at his fist. Jill looked as well, and when he opened his hand, there was a diamond ring in his palm.

Jill got a little wide eyed, and she looked at him, asking, "When did you get that?"

"Right after we last made love," he told her, "when I'd said I wanted to marry you. I wasn't kidding, Jill."

Jill couldn't help but stare at him. "You've had that ring all this time?"

"Yeah, I got it just before everything with Forest happened. I decided I'd keep it as a memento."

Jill looked back at the ring, and then she leaned her forehead against his cheek and said, "It's beautiful."

"Not as much as you," Chris replied. He couldn't help himself sometimes.

Jill smiled, and she took the ring from his hand, looking it over, "So, are you going to ask or what?"

"I didn't know if you'd want me to."

Jill looked at him and she nodded, "If you'd rather wait, it doesn't matter. We're here, now, and that's all I care about."

Chris smiled, then he said, "Why don't you keep it for now. I'm afraid I might lose it anyway."

"Okay," she promised, leaning in and kissing him again before pulling him down on top of her with a grin on her lips.

Chris was also smiling, and he teased her again, "My Valentine."

"Damn it!" She couldn't help her smile though. She'd rather have him here calling her his Valentine on friendly terms with him than be alone and hating him again.

"Why does that bother you so much?" He asked, "You never told me."

"I didn't?"

"Nope."

He was rubbing his nose against hers cutely, and she smirked, "Just because it gets so old. I'd hoped anyone I might have settled down with wouldn't call me that. But you know, if we do get married, you won't be able to say it anymore."

"Sure I will, it'll be your maiden name."

"Not if I don't want it to be," she grinned.

Chris chuckled and several moments passed in silence between them while they gave erotic touches and worship to each other, kisses and caresses, reconciling what had gone wrong between them and making up for lost time. Jill sighed loudly when he moved his body against hers, into hers, and she asked, "Do you want me to quit the nightclub?"

Chris grumbled, "Later."

"Later?"

"Yeah, not now."

"You want me to quit later?"

"No, I mean we'll talk about it later."

"Oh, okay," Jill smirked at how he didn't want to be distracted. Then she asked, "How's work?"

She was doing it on purpose. Chris groaned and she grinned, trying not to laugh at him. Slowly, she ran her fingers down against the muscle of his chest and said, "What about your–"

He hushed her with a kiss, and she gave up, chuckling against his lips. The sun was starting to come up, and soon she forgot about teasing him again and just concentrated on him instead.

Neither one of them could be more happy with where they were at the moment.


	22. My Story

_My Story_

Leon had drifted off to sleep, and he slept for a for a few hours, and woke up around 10:00. When he did, he could hear a somewhat upbeat jazz song coming from the living room, accompanied by Claire's voice singing to it.

She actually sounded really good. Leon just shook his head and closed his eyes, listening to her as she made her way back and forth through the hall, not too sure what she was doing, but whatever it was, she wasn't bothering him.

The door opened after a few minutes and Claire walked into the room, hair red hair pulled back into a ponytail at the back of her neck, wearing a soft looking white button up sweater and a deep rose colored skirt. She was carrying a tray in her hands and she looked at him, "The music didn't wake you up did it?"

"Nope," Leon replied, yawning slightly. He still felt pretty tired, but much better than last night, and he was hungry as hell.

"Good," Claire replied as she took the tray around to his side of the bed and set it on the night stand. "Like egg and bacon sandwich's? I made you one, and some milk to drink."

"Sounds delicious," he told her honestly.

"Okay, here," she leaned in and pulled the pillows up for him so he could sit back against him.

"Where are my pants?"

"I washed them, why?"

"Got a pair of boxers I could borrow?"

"My brother might."

Leon lifted a brow, not too sure how much he'd like to wear another guys boxers, but if they were clean, he guessed he didn't have a choice, so he asked her, "Could you bring me a pair?"

"Alright, but if they irritate that cut on your leg, I–"

"They won't," he cut her off. "Besides, you've bandaged me up pretty good."

She had a good right to consider that because the cut on his leg traveled from his hip down to his upper thigh. Then there was a smaller scratch across his calve, but the one on his hip was the worst of all of them. She'd been afraid she was going to have to put stitches in it.

Thankfully though, she hadn't, and so she just nodded and went to go get him some clothing. Since they were in Chris's room anyway, she didn't have to go too far.

She tossed them at him, and he said, "Thanks. I can take it from here."

Claire smiled, "What are you planning on doing?"

"Bathroom."

"Need help?"

"No."

She knew he'd say that, so she just smirked as she walked to the door and said, "Alright, but if you do, I'll be right outside the room. There's a bathroom right there," she pointed. Leon nodded when she showed him.

Claire shut the door behind her, and Leon shook his head, grumbling over his condition as he pushed his legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor, getting the boxers on. He'd feel better if he was just wearing them in general around her anyway.

Finally standing up, he made his way toward the door, and grimaced because the wound on his leg seemed to be worse than he'd thought. So he put most of his weight on his right leg, and walked passed the mirror, then stopped and looked at himself.

"Goddamn," he grumbled. There was a bruise on the side of his face, around his eye, and he thought he resembled a raccoon. Rolling his eyes slightly, he pushed himself away from the mirror and walked into the bathroom, muttering, "Welcome to Raccoon."

Several minutes later, he was back in bed, wondering for a moment if those guys had beat up on him more after they'd knocked him out because his entire body ached almost, but either way, he grabbed the tray and started eating what was on it.

Claire was a good cook it seemed. No sooner than he'd had the thought, she knocked on the door and he told her to come in.

Walking into the room, she asked, "Food good?"

"Yeah," Leon replied, "so, this is Chris's room?" There was a dresser with a mirror on it, a few pictures here and there, one of Claire, and one, Leon realized, of the serving girl from the nightclub, and also of him and a guy Leon had never met before. Besides that though, the room was somewhat messy, but still pretty devoid of many decorations, lots of browns and greens, and Leon felt pretty comfortable.

"Yep."

"Someone should teach him how to clean up," he chuckled softly.

Claire smiled, "He's a messy guy, that's for sure."

"There is something I don't understand though," Leon told her. "He's a detective. Why didn't he arrest those guys when he saw me with them? You said it was too dangerous?"

"Yeah," Claire started, walking toward a chair sitting in the corner and pulling it out, then setting it near the bed to sit in it before she continued, "he knew that if he arrested any of those guys, one of two things would happen. More of them would come and try to kill him too, or they'd send out more later to find him, and cause some more problems. Trouble seems to like him I think. Still, he thought it'd be better if he brought you here for now, let you get rested up, then take you downtown to do a line up. But if there's another reason he brought you here, I don't know about it."

Leon knew that was a good reason, and he shrugged slightly, "He still could have taken me to the hospital. They might not have found me there."

"Maybe not, but there was a chance, and since you saved his butt last Saturday, he owed you one, and didn't want to take that chance."

"I see," Leon nodded slowly. "You know, I admire him. He's got guts."

"Yeah, he does, and it makes me scared."

"Why's that?"

"Because I missed him so much during the war, and I don't want him to come back here just to get killed in a war of a different kind."

Leon looked over at her, and he asked, "Did you lose someone anyway?" She just sounded like she might have.

"Well, yeah, my boyfriend, Steve."

"I'm sorry, Claire." Leon sounded genuine. He didn't like seeing any woman hurt.

Well, he could probably think of one now, but that wasn't here nor there.

"It's okay," she told him, "I'm fine now. It's been a while."

Leon put the tray back up on the night stand, and he sighed as he sat back. "Well, I'm glad."

"So, what about you? Did you fight in the war?"

Leon smirked, then he turned his head and looked down at the sheets beside him for a minute, facing her direction, "Yeah," he scratched his brow, "I came back last July."

"What do you do now?"

"Whatever I can," Leon told her vaguely. "I'm not employed at the moment."

"Oh, me either. I just quit my job yesterday." She sighed softly over it.

"What were you doing?"

"Hosiery Mill," she explained, "but I'm going to get a job somewhere else now."

Leon smirked, "A dame as pretty as you shouldn't have to work." He cringed at himself. He guessed old habits died hard, and he just couldn't help himself.

Claire smiled, then she glanced up at him, "Well, I'm not a dame, just a girl trying to make a living I guess." She shrugged slightly, then asked, "Chris said you're here from out of town. What brought you down here?"

Leon guessed the cat was out of the bag either way, so he told her the truth, and not some vague statement like 'trying to even a score' as he'd been telling everyone. "I came down here to either kill or hurt Albert Wesker, whichever I could get away with more easily."

Claire tilted her head to the side, listening to him, "Why? I mean, I know he's probably got a lot of people wanting him dead, but why you in particular?"

Leon sighed, looking ahead of himself as he started explaining it all to her. "When I came back from the war last year, my little brother, Taylor, had gotten himself involved with one of the mobs in Chicago. He'd been too young to go off to war, so I had to leave him here with my Uncle, and during that time, he grew up and started living on his own."

Leon had Claire's full attention. He paused for a moment to let everything sink in so far, and then he continued, "He was a smart kid, he just needed guidance. My uncle was just too old, he couldn't watch him like Taylor needed. Taylor was a changed man when I got back, and even though there wasn't any bad blood between us, I still got the feeling he was resentful toward me for having to leave. I don't know, maybe I was resentful toward things myself."

"So what happened?" Claire urged him on.

"Well, he would go to nightclubs and hang out with the mobsters and had gotten into a lot of trouble. So one night I decided to go out and see if I couldn't talk some sense into him. I found him at a club called The Bella and went inside. Someone said they'd seen him going out the back doors of the club, and so I went to see if I could find him."

Leon sighed, and Claire could tell he was going to say something serious next. "As soon as I got outside, I heard a gunshot and saw someone falling to the ground. My first thought was that Taylor had killed someone. I stayed back for a moment out of instinct, when you heard gunfire overseas, if you could, you got down. So I stayed back. When I did, I saw a man walking toward the body and checking it for life. I heard someone asking if he was dead, and," Leon stopped for a minute. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Claire asked him.

"The guy at the club, who hit me. That's the same guy who was checking the body." It just dawned on him at that moment, reminiscing over what he'd seen in the alleyway compared to what he'd seen the other night in the club. But he still didn't know what the man's name was.

"So who was it?" Claire asked him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"The man who'd asked if he was dead was Wesker, and the guy he was checking was my brother. I still don't even know why they killed him for sure."

Claire was frowning, her red brows narrowed, "Leon, I'm so sorry. I'd be chasing him down too if I were you."

Leon sighed, then he looked over at her, "After that, I took my brothers clothing and started hanging out with mobsters, pretending to be one, so I could find out where Wesker was staying, where he was hiding, and get even with him. But now," he paused for a moment, "I think I may have an entirely new target if the guy who pulled the trigger is still around."

Claire sighed, but she stayed quiet for a minute. She wasn't sure if there was anything she could say to him or not. Then she remembered a question she'd wanted to ask him, and she looked up, deciding to change the subject entirely, "What was the offer that you made to my brother?"

"Oh," he smiled a little, "To partner up and get what we both wanted done a lot easier."

"He turned you down the first time?"

"Thinking I was in the mob, yeah."

"Figures," she smirked, "you know, the mob killed his partner."

"Oh? Well, we know how each other feels then."

"Yeah," she said, standing up and grabbing the tray from the night stand. "He should be back any time though, unless he went straight to work."

"Where did he go last night?"

"Actually," Claire smiled as she headed to the door, "he went to make up with Jill, didn't have a chance to come in before he took her home and called me from there. What they were doing though, I don't even want to know."

"He loves her a lot, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he does. He bought a ring for her."

"Marriage?"

"Yep."

"Well, they definitely have passion for one another."

Still standing at the door, Claire asked him, "How do you know?"

"If you could have seen them in the nightclub the other night, you'd know too."

Claire smiled, then she asked him, "Can I get you anything else?"

"Actually, you wouldn't happen to have a cigarette would you?"

"There should be a pack in the drawer on the night stand, Chris smokes."

"Alright, thanks," Leon replied and let her go. Once she left, he reached over and looked in the drawer, then grabbed the pack and opened it. Lighting it with a pack of matches he'd also found, he sat back against the headboard and let the smoke blow out of his nostrils slowly.

He wondered briefly for a moment what the next few days would have in store for them all.


End file.
